Pride Prejudice and Perjury
by GoGG
Summary: A mystery, that departs from P&P at the very end – Darcy does not return to Longbourn to propose to Elizabeth. At Jane's wedding he ignores her and after shuns her. Can Elizabeth discover why Darcy has turned against her? Is there hope of a happy ending?
1. A Husband for Miss Bennet

**Pride Prejudice and Perjury**

_**Blurb**_

A mystery, which departs from the original story at the very end – Darcy does not return to Longbourn to propose to Elizabeth. At Jane and Bingley's wedding he ignores her and subsequently shuns her. Can Elizabeth discover why Darcy has turned against her? Is there any hope of a happy ending?

Sincere thanks to my wonderful betas, _Beth1, Debra Anne, LauraLoo_ and _Scarlie_, for all their help and hard work.

Note: This story is completed... there are 17 chapters plus an Epilogue and I will try to post a chapter every day.

_**Prologue**_

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…"

Elizabeth felt her eyes unwillingly travel to the man standing beside the groom. She endeavoured to control her giddy emotions, struggling for breath, and fighting the nausea and dizziness which had assailed her from the moment he had entered the church.

"Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," said Charles Bingley, eagerly.

"Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

"I will," replied Jane Bennet.

Elizabeth stood beside Kitty, with whom she shared the honour of bridesmaid. She had not seen Mr. Darcy since the dinner her mother had given in September with the intention of forwarding a match between Jane and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy had soon afterwards departed Hertfordshire for London and had not returned, despite his friend's expectation that he would do so within ten days. He came neither to congratulate Mr. Bingley upon his engagement to Miss Bennet, nor to lend his support during his friend's season of courtship, with the multitude of invitations about the neighbourhood. Mr. Bingley was too full of delight and joy at his own good fortune, and far too much in love, to allow his friend's inconsiderate behaviour to diminish his happiness.

"With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen," recited Bingley as he slid the wedding ring onto his bride's finger.

_Why had Mr. Darcy stayed away from Hertfordshire until today – in breach of what was owed at such a time to his closest friend?_ Elizabeth asked herself. And like the countless nights that she had lain awake, brooding over that vexing question, she inevitably arrived at the same inescapable answer: _To avoid seeing me; it is the only explanation_.

"O Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this Man and this Woman, whom we bless in thy Name…"

On what should have been the happiest day of her life, thus far, Elizabeth struggled to overcome her own heartache and confusion. She was truly delighted for Jane; but it was a bittersweet emotion, for Jane's union must inevitably bring her into the company of Mr. Bingley's friend. Elizabeth drew a deep breath; she must find the strength to control her emotions and force herself to behave with civility and disinterest towards Mr. Darcy – for Jane's sake.

"…I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

As fate would have it, just as Elizabeth turned to follow the bride and groom from the church, Mr. Darcy also turned. For the briefest of moments, they faced each other across the aisle and their eyes met. His cheeks crimson, Mr. Darcy immediately withdrew his gaze and fixed his face in a steadfast mask of haughty disdain that pierced Elizabeth's heart like a jagged shard of ice. "Give me your arm, Kitty," she begged, "for I feel faint."

Kitty obliged. "Why Lizzy," she whispered, "I do believe you have fallen into a swoon; I am surprised to see you so affected by our sister's wedding."

As they exited the church into the pale sunlight, all eyes were upon Jane and Mr. Bingley, thus allowing Elizabeth to escape scrutiny in her agitated and distressed state. As she walked towards Longbourn, still resting on her sister's arm, Elizabeth drew deep breaths of the invigorating air of the cool October morning, which somewhat revived her. _I have only the wedding breakfast to endure_, she thought. _Then he will be gone, and I shall be myself again; I shall be once more at my ease_.

As it transpired, Elizabeth had no further trials to endure that day, for against all propriety and what was expected of a groomsman, Mr. Darcy absented himself from the wedding breakfast, straightaway returning to London.

_**Chapter 1 ~ A Husband for Miss Bennet**_

Jane and Bingley decided to wait until the spring, when the weather would be warmer, to take their wedding tour, and thus passed the first months of their married life in London, returning only briefly to Netherfield Park for the Christmas festivities, after which Bingley gave up the Hertfordshire residence entirely. Jane had wished for Elizabeth to accompany her to town, but her mother insisted that she was needed at Longbourn, and so Kitty went in her stead. Elizabeth was well aware of why her mother required her at home; with Jane now married, she was next in line for her mother's matrimonial schemes – it being a rule universally acknowledged, that an elder daughter must be married before her younger sisters are put forward. Lydia, of course, wilful creature that she was, had taken matters into her own hands – and in contravention of far greater proprieties than that of awaiting her turn at the altar.

The husband Mrs. Bennet had settled upon for her second daughter was the new rector of Longbourn, Mr. Septimus Tiddlington, who had officiated at Jane's wedding. Mrs. Bennet took every opportunity of inviting the young rector to dine with them, and always contrived to seat him beside Elizabeth. _He must be a complete fool_, thought Elizabeth, _if he does not see what my mother is about._

In consequence of the abundant opportunities thus afforded her for conversing with him, Elizabeth decided that notwithstanding his complete innocence with regard to her mother's matrimonial schemes, he was not in the least bit a fool; although due to a propensity to self-effacement and an idiosyncratic character, he might, upon superficial acquaintance, be taken for one. He had reddish hair and a large round face with generous ears protruding on either side. Elizabeth found his appearance more comical than repulsive. He was excessively shy, but when encouraged to speak, revealed himself to be thoughtful and learned, with a good grounding in the classics. He was exceedingly fond of music, and his greatest love was playing the violin – although he steadfastly refused to perform before others. Regrettably, his affinity for music caused him great unease, for he feared it betrayed an inclination towards worldliness which was unbefitting a clergyman.

"But surely music is a gift from God," Elizabeth reassured him. "Does it not behove us to welcome His gifts and appreciate them?" They were at the dining table, and the rector had been speaking enthusiastically of an Italian composition he had recently mastered, but his joy and happiness at contemplating the beauty of the music had very quickly given way to guilt and self-admonishment. Elizabeth's attempt at relieving his suffering had a most marked effect.

"Do you really think so, Miss Bennet?" he asked earnestly. "Of course I have often dared to entertain that very thought myself; but then I begin to wonder if I am not being tempted by the Devil into believing that music is Godly simply because I love it so. Do you not see my predicament, Miss Bennet?" he beseeched.

Elizabeth noticed the wry smile on the face of her father at the head of the table, and struggling to maintain an air of seriousness, she reassured him, "Indeed I do believe it, sir, most wholeheartedly. And since I am no great lover or performer of music myself, you must agree that my opinion must be wholly without self-interest, and may thus be relied upon."

"Miss Bennet, I am greatly indebted to you, for your wise counsel," he said, bowing his head so low that his pince-nez fell from his long, narrow, sensitive nose into his soup. Elizabeth endeavoured to maintain a straight face as the poor man awkwardly fished them out and attempted to clean them on his napkin. She dared not look in the direction of her father, whose expression was certain to unleash the laughter she was barely managing to suppress. Mr. Bennet derived great enjoyment from the eccentricities of his fellow man, and was especially appreciative of the abundant foibles of the young clergyman. He was grateful to his good wife for the frequent invitations she extended him; and while easily comprehending her motive, he was not in the least concerned that her scheme would meet with the slightest success.

Elizabeth was unable to share her father's complacency, for she sensed that the time was inevitably approaching when the young clergyman, girded by her mother's constant encouragements, might summon the courage to pay her his addresses; and she dreaded having to refuse him. He was so gentle and artless; rejection, she feared, would cause him great pain.

The idea of marriage, she was convinced, had not yet crossed his innocent mind prior to his acquaintance with Mrs. Bennet, who took every opportunity to extol the virtues of the institution and to assure the young man that he would be far happier, and his life made inestimably more comfortable, by the addition of a mistress to the parsonage. She questioned him concerning his household affairs, and invariably concluded that his servants were cheating him and taking gross advantage of his amiable nature; a wife was essential for the proper running of the establishment, she assured him, and would soon take his wayward servants in hand.

However, the unworldly clergyman was so disinterested in such mundane considerations that these attacks had little effect. Mrs. Bennet had more success when she amended her strategy and approached from the side of duty, with frequent exhortations on the responsibilities of a clergyman – the chief of them being to set the example of matrimony in his parish. Entirely unaware of Mrs. Bennet's self-interested scheming, the young man took this advice to heart, and it was but a very small step from being persuaded that he must marry to deciding that the elder Miss Bennet might do admirably – if she would deign to have him. He had always been excessively shy in the company of young ladies, but Miss Bennet possessed the gift of putting him at his ease. Had she not soothed his anxieties about the probity of his attachment to music? And was her company not pleasant and enjoyable? His only qualm was with regard to Miss Bennet's beauty, to which even he could not be insensible. _I__s it reasonable to hope that so beautiful a lady could be reconciled to accepting a person as undeniably plain as myself? And does not an attraction to physical form signify a tendency towards lustfulness?_ He feared very much that it might.

* * *

While the young rector was struggling inwardly with this sudden surge of desire, and endeavouring not to be led into temptation, Elizabeth was contemplating the vexing problem of how to decline the young man without causing him undue suffering. As to her mother, Elizabeth had little doubt of the angry outpourings that would be levelled at her. Having expended so much effort on her ungrateful daughter's behalf, Mrs. Bennet would be apoplectic with rage. It would be worse, even, than when she had refused Mr. Collins. Her father would most certainly support her actions; but rather than mollify her mother, it would only serve to further infuriate her.

Elizabeth was resigned to the mortification she must cause her mother. _At least it shall serve one useful purpose_, she thought. _It must surely put an end to my mother's attempts at finding me husbands. It may even convince her that I was entirely sincere when I confessed to her that I had no wish to follow my elder sister into matrimony_. When Elizabeth made this startling revelation, shortly after Jane's marriage, her mother had refused to believe her. "Don't be silly, Lizzy, of course you must marry. You do not know what you are about, child! It is only that you have not yet met the right man; that is all."

_If only she knew_, reflected Elizabeth. Indeed, she _had_ met the right man – the one whom she wished to marry above everything else in the world; but he had disappointed her. She had been driven almost to distraction, attempting to fathom Mr. Darcy's feelings for her. She had relived their meetings in Derbyshire a thousand times, and could come to no other conclusion than that he had forgiven her the angry and unjust rejection of his addresses in Kent – and that against all the odds – he still loved her. All his actions confirmed it: his eagerness to introduce her to his sister, and the warmth and passion of all his looks. What other explanation could there be for him riding to Lambton on the very morning that Jane's alarming letters concerning Lydia had arrived, other than to renew his addresses?

And why would he have subjected himself to the degradation and considerable financial cost of bribing George Wickham to marry Lydia; a foolish young girl whom he could not possibly respect or care about? Elizabeth could see no explanation other than that advanced by her Aunt Gardiner: he had done it for her, to ease the abject suffering he had witnessed at their last meeting at the inn at Lambton. And, conjectured Elizabeth, for himself also: Darcy could not have made her his wife in the face of the deep disgrace that would have been the lot of her family, had Lydia not been either swiftly detached from Wickham and closeted somewhere, away from the world, or else very quickly wed to the rogue.

Elizabeth was all too aware of the danger of misjudging Mr. Darcy's feelings – as she had so abjectly misjudged them in the past. She was alive to the temptation of interpreting events in the best possible light – which might confirm what she so ardently wished to believe. But what other explanation could there be for his returning into Hertfordshire with Mr. Bingley, if it was not with the resolve of renewing his addresses to her? And if he had behaved awkwardly, and without the openness and warmth he had shown in Derbyshire, it was not very surprising. Her mother had gone out of her way to make him feel unwelcome; in such circumstances he could hardly be expected to feel at ease. Elizabeth understood him well enough by now to know that in such situations he appeared haughty and reserved, when in fact he felt awkward and embarrassed.

After Mr. Darcy's departure for London, Charles Bingley had spoken with conviction of his friend's intention of returning within ten days. But Mr. Darcy did not return. Why? _Why has he forsaken me?_ Elizabeth asked herself again and again. The recent awkwardness aside, his every action up to that point had suggested the constancy of his love, and his desire to marry her. _What was it that caused him to change his mind?_

The words of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, echoed in Elizabeth's mind: _Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point_.

Lady Catherine must have travelled directly to London after the unsatisfactory interview at Longbourn, and there met with her nephew and persuaded him not to marry her. That much was clear. _But how_, wondered Elizabeth, _did she succeed in prevailing upon him?_

Elizabeth could think of nothing. There was no argument, no assertion the aunt could have made of which Mr. Darcy was not himself already aware. He knew better than his aunt the circumstances of her family; the history of her younger sister, Lydia; the identity and descent of her new brother-in-law, Wickham, by whom the shades of Pemberley were to be polluted. Certainly the aunt would have given a most disparaging account of Elizabeth's conduct and language and all that transpired in their acrimonious conversation in the wilderness at Longbourn. She would have acquainted her nephew with her unequivocally unfavourable judgement of herself as an unfeeling, selfish, obstinate, and headstrong girl.

_But how could Mr. Darcy have been swayed by such prejudiced remarks?_ Elizabeth asked herself. Surely he must know that his aunt was acting from self-interest, from her wish that he should marry her own daughter. _I cannot believe that he would place his aunt's estimation of my character above his own_.

* * *

All through the dark, dreary months of winter, Elizabeth found herself unable to prevent her thoughts from straying endlessly into conjecture upon the cause of Mr. Darcy's behaviour. The weather was mostly bad, and lacking her customary vigour, she hardly set foot out of doors, even on the few mild days. Her mother, alarmed at her daughter's frequent listlessness and want of spirit, determined to call the apothecary, but Elizabeth would not countenance it. She knew very well what was the cause of her decline, and that there was nothing an apothecary could do to remedy it. She spent much of her time brooding alone in her room. Even when she was obliged to sit with her mother in the parlour, her mind was habitually engaged in the conundrum of Mr. Darcy's behaviour; the customary exchange of small talk with her mother and sisters requiring only a very small allotment of her faculties.

Despite her own less than idyllic experience of the institution, Mrs. Bennet was a resolute believer in the virtues of marriage. To her it was the panacea for every maidenly ill. What her daughter needed, she was convinced, was a husband – matrimony would set her right. Thus did she redouble her efforts in exhorting Mr. Tiddlington to take a wife, even going so far as to suggest, in private, that Miss Bennet would be an entirely suitable match for a clergyman such as himself, and that should he pay her his addresses, there could be no doubt of his being accepted.

"Elizabeth, my dear," said her mother, one afternoon following dinner, to which the good reverend had been invited, "it is such a lovely mild day; why do you not show our charming wilderness to Mr. Tiddlington; for I am certain he would enjoy it."

Elizabeth was alarmed at the meaningful wink she caught her mother giving the young rector, who blushed and stuttered his consent to the scheme. There could be no doubt that a proposal of marriage was imminent. How could she reject his addresses without hurting him and injuring so timid and gentle a soul? she wondered.

They walked silently towards the wilderness in the weak winter sunlight, the young clergyman desperately attempting to gather his courage for the daunting task that lay before him. Elizabeth's mind was so wholly engaged in finding a solution to her present predicament that, for the first time in many months, Mr. Darcy was entirely forgotten. Her best strategy, she decided, was to convince him of her lack of suitability; and if she could do so before he actually came to the point, then he might be spared the suffering of feeling rejected.

"Mr. Tiddlington, you must excuse my dear mother if she is sometimes a little over-zealous in espousing the benefits of matrimony and wishing that her every acquaintance should share in the joys of connubial felicity."

The rector froze; his face crimson. "I b…beg your pardon?" he whispered nervously, unable to look Elizabeth in the eye. He possessed very little information regarding the manner in which a gentleman should conduct himself when wishing to pay his addresses to a lady, and had only a very rudimentary idea of the formalities involved; however, he had always believed it to be the prerogative of the gentleman to instigate matters.

Elizabeth stopped walking also, and with a gentle sigh she added, "My sisters and I are quite inured to our mother's great enthusiasm for the institution of marriage, but for those who do not know her as we do, it is well to temper the zeal that she might engender with an equal portion of discretion."

"Discretion?" the rector asked, perplexed, before giving a nervous cough and walking on. "I regret to say that I am rather puzzled, Miss Bennet. Are you not disposed to… err, excuse me, what I am meaning to say is… err, do you disagree with your mother's views regarding marriage?"

"What I mean to say, sir, is that while marriage may be an excellent institution in general, it is only so if one chooses a suitable partner."

"Oh?" responded the rector. They had now entered the wilderness, and he stopped to ponder Elizabeth's words. "Yes, I had not considered that point at any great length. I imagine one must be guided by the recommendations of others. How else can one know who might be suitable?" he asked anxiously.

"I see, sir, that this is not a subject upon which you have much dwelt. Let me assure you that it is not quite so difficult as you imagine. One begins by undertaking an honest assessment of oneself: one's disposition, pastimes, interests; the things that one holds dear in life and considers important."

Mr. Tiddlington sat silently upon one of the stone benches with a furrowed brow, deep in thought. Finally he said, "Why, I hardly know; these are matters that I have never much contemplated."

"If you will allow me to take the liberty, sir, having recently spent some time in your company, perhaps I can be of some assistance, for I am a keen judge of character."

"Err… yes, by all means, please proceed if you will, Miss Bennet," he said warily.

"You are a thoughtful man, sir, more interested in knowledge and books on serious subjects than mere entertainment or the social round. You love music: both listening and playing. And you are a most diligent clergyman, who is anxious to perform his religious duties with dignity and respect."

The rector sat for some time in contemplative silence before responding with uncharacteristic animation, "Your perspicacity astounds me, Miss Bennet. Yes, yes, I think you must be right. I am entirely in accord with your analysis. And in order to find a suitable marriage partner I must identify a lady with similar qualities – is that it?" he asked, looking up uncertainly at Elizabeth, who was seated upon the bench opposite him.

"Yes, exactly," replied Elizabeth encouragingly.

Mr. Tiddlington lowered his gaze, and stared thoughtfully at the turf between them for some time before confiding uneasily, "I fear that I lack your abilities in judging character, Miss Bennet. It is not an exercise I have ever seriously engaged in."

"Oh, it is not at all difficult, sir, I can assure you. Take myself, for example. I read novels rather than serious books. I cannot imagine what my sister Mary finds so interesting in Fordyce's Sermons, but then she is more inclined to religion than am I. It is hardly surprising, I suppose; for unlike myself, my sister has a serious disposition. Her only concession to amusement is music."

"Why, yes," said the young clergyman thoughtfully, "you are entirely correct. How extraordinary that I should not have noticed," he mused, more to himself than to Elizabeth as he continued staring fixedly at the ground for some minutes before rising abruptly and turning towards Elizabeth. "This has been a most rewarding conversation, Miss Bennet, I thank you," he said, bowing solemnly.

As they walked back towards the house, Septimus Tiddlington shook his large head and wondered how he could have so badly misconstrued Mrs. Bennet's intentions; in naming _Miss Bennet_ as a suitable marriage partner, she had clearly been referring to Miss Mary Bennet – not her elder sister Elizabeth! _What a blind fool I have been_, he admonished himself.

* * *

Following the reverend gentleman's next visit to Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet took Elizabeth aside. She was greatly agitated. "My dear Lizzy, I do not know what to make of it at all! Only last week I was quite certain that Mr. Tiddlington was on the point of paying you his addresses. Why, I had even hinted to him that he might do so in the expectation of receiving a favourable reception. But upon entering the dining room today, he immediately seated himself beside Mary, instead of you!"

"Yes, it was quite unexpected," replied Elizabeth suppressing a smile. "Although not perhaps entirely surprising. I have always thought that Mary's temperament was more in keeping with that of the rector than my own. It certainly seemed that they had a good deal to say to each other at the table; and there can be no doubt that he deliberately sought my sister out in the drawing-room, where they were again engaged in serious conversation. I cannot recall ever seeing Mary so animated."

"It was entirely vexing! I cannot understand what has gotten into that young man's head! I could hardly drag Mary away from him to open the instrument!"

"Yet when she played, her performance was uncommonly good, I thought, and rendered with a passion that is often wanting in her recital. Mr. Tiddlington looked to be deeply moved by her performance. I think, Mamma, I must resign myself to the truth that he prefers my sister Mary, to myself."

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "Your sister is nothing compared to you, my dear! While I would be the last woman in the world to speak unflatteringly of any of her daughters, the truth of that matter is that Mary is dull and plain. She is the last one of you for whom I ever hoped to find a husband. Indeed, I believed it to be all but impossible. How could any man prefer her to you? It is entirely incomprehensible!"

"What you say, Mamma, may be true of most men; but Mr. Tiddlington, I suspect, is not like most men; he is quite unique. And wise too, I think, in perceiving that my sister, while not possessing those qualities that are generally valued in a prospective wife, nevertheless has the disposition that would best suit his own temperament."

"Yes, perhaps that is so," conceded her mother grudgingly. "Your sister will have a very pretty establishment at the parsonage. I am sure they will live very comfortably."

"And happily too, I imagine," added Elizabeth. Although she had planted the idea of the suitability of her sister in the rector's mind to deflect his attentions from herself, it was done in the firm belief that Mr. Tiddlington and Mary were indeed well suited to each other; a belief which their behaviour today seemed to confirm.

"But what of yourself, my dear? I begin to worry that I will never find you a husband," said her mother with a heartfelt sigh.

_If only she would stop trying to find me one_, thought Elizabeth, _but there is no way to convince her that I do not wish to marry_.

Following her disappointed hopes with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth had decided that courtship was fraught with far too many difficulties and pitfalls. There seemed little likelihood of her ever meeting another gentleman so well suited to her temperament and with the superior qualities of character and mind which she had eventually come to apprehend Mr. Darcy possessed in abundance. And having known such a man, she knew that she would never be happy settling for anything less. Yet she doubted very much that she would ever meet his equal, or that another such as he existed in all of England.

With Jane well-married, and to so amiable and considerate a gentleman as Charles Bingley, Elizabeth knew she would always have a home with her sister, and that marriage was no longer a necessity for her future security. Not that this was in the least bit likely to deter her mother from endlessly attempting to marry her off. Mrs. Bennet quite clearly would not be happy, nor feel that she had discharged her maternal duties, until she had found husbands for all five of her daughters. _And how lonely my poor mamma will then be_, Elizabeth reflected wryly.

"With your sister Mary having gained Mr. Tiddlington's affections, I am quite at a loss as to whom you might try for. He is the only eligible bachelor in the entire district," said her mother, withdrawing into silence as she racked her brain for potential suitors for Elizabeth. "It is no good," she finally said. "I cannot think of anyone. I know! You must go to town and stay with your sister Jane; it is but the middle of February, London must be full of eligible young gentlemen, come up for the season. Lizzy, you must go at once!"

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	2. Fairfield Gardens

_**Chapter 2 ~ Fairfield Gardens**_

Charles Bingley had kindly offered his carriage to transport Kitty home to Longbourn and return to London with her older sister. In the short time afforded Elizabeth to question Kitty concerning arrangements at the Bingley residence at Fairfield Gardens, she learned that Mr. Darcy and his sister were in town and dined there often; and that the hospitality was returned with frequent invitations to Mr. Darcy's residence at Grosvenor Square. Caroline Bingley, who had been staying at Fairfield Gardens, had that very morning removed herself to the Hursts'. _To avoid being in the same house as me_, thought Elizabeth, and not without a sense of relief. But how would she endure being once more in Mr. Darcy's company?

As it transpired, Elizabeth had nothing to fear, for Mr. Darcy had evidently determined to avoid her. On the day following her arrival in town, Elizabeth was sitting with Jane in the morning room when the servant entered with a message for his mistress. "My goodness, how very peculiar," said Jane.

The message was from Miss Darcy, expressing her deep regret that she and her brother would not be able to keep a long-standing engagement to dine with them that day, on account of some urgent business which had unexpectedly arisen.

"Such as my arrival," said Elizabeth.

"Nonsense, Lizzy," replied Jane. "Why should it have anything to do with you? It is most uncharacteristic of Mr. Darcy to cancel an engagement at such short notice; something very serious must have arisen that demands his immediate attention."

"And would prevent Miss Darcy, also, from dining with us? I think not."

"I am certain that you are wrong, Lizzy. Our mother was so eager to have you come to town that Kitty's departure and your arrival all occurred exceedingly quickly; no one but ourselves can even be aware of it. Mr. Darcy cannot yet know that you are in town."

"Caroline Bingley knows," replied her sister; "she must have communicated the news to Grosvenor Square."

"Lizzy, you are making not the least bit of sense. Why should Mr. Darcy wish to avoid you? It is very nearly a year since you refused his offer of marriage in Kent. Surely you cannot believe that he still bears you so great a resentment that he would avoid dining with his closest friend. And remember – he came with Charles to wait on us at Longbourn upon their return into Hertfordshire, and accepted our mother's dinner invitation. If I recall correctly, he was entirely polite and civil towards you at Longbourn. Has something occurred since then which could have caused him to wish to avoid your company?"

Elizabeth decided that the time had come to confess the whole of her history with Mr. Darcy, both in Kent and in Derbyshire. Elizabeth concealed nothing, nor did she scruple to hide the details of the part Mr. Darcy had played in attempting to separate his friend from Jane, or how he had colluded with Bingley's sisters to conceal from him her presence in town the previous winter.

Jane sat silently shaking her head, occasionally gasping with surprise as her sister opened her heart to her. When she was finished, Jane said, "In light of what Mr. Darcy has done for our sister, Lydia, I cannot remain angry with him for his efforts in endeavouring to keep Charles and myself apart. Yet how strange it is that he was entirely powerless to overcome his feelings for you – and in fact paid you his addresses in Kent – when the very same objections he enumerated to you, compelled him to do everything in his power to prevent Charles from marrying me.

"And from what you now tell me of what transpired in Derbyshire, it seems that even your ruthless rejection of his suit in Kent was forgiven – that he was on the point of paying you his addresses a second time. It seems certain that his reason for riding to Lambton on your final morning there was to do just that; and had you not, on that very morning, received my letters with the awful news concerning Lydia, he would again have asked you to marry him."

"Yes," agreed Elizabeth, "it does seem probable. I have thought it over a great deal, and for a gentleman to come calling upon a lady staying at a public inn strikes me as peculiar, unless there be some particular purpose – to introduce his sister and have her issue an invitation to dine, for example – as was the case two days earlier. Furthermore, if it were merely a social call, his sister, whose acquaintance with myself he was at pains to forward, would have accompanied him."

"However," added Jane, "if his intention was to pay you his addresses, Mr. Darcy would have come alone; and had he found you in the company of others, he would doubtless have proposed a walk or some similar device in order to detach you from them and provide an opportunity for a tête-à-tête."

"Yes. When I consider that we were, in fact, engaged to dine at Pemberley later that very same day, where there would be ample opportunity to converse – albeit not privately – the idea that he should come in the morning simply to pay a social call does not answer."

"I quite agree," replied Jane. "His purpose, almost certainly, was to pay you his addresses a second time. And do you know how you should have answered him?"

"Indeed I do. I was beginning to suspect it to be his intention, ever since our first meeting at Pemberley, when his behaviour was so altered, and he spoke of his desire to introduce his sister to my acquaintance. I was determined not to be surprised a second time."

"You would have accepted him, I think?"

"Yes, I believe I would," replied Elizabeth, giving a long, heartfelt sigh.

"Do you think he subsequently changed his mind on account of Lydia's elopement with Wickham?" asked Jane.

"At first I was certain that Lydia's disgrace must end all my hopes. How could so proud a man associate himself with such a family? However, when later the elopement was mitigated by marriage – though Mr. Darcy was familiar with all the details – I thought perhaps his dignity might be assuaged. But then there was the connection with George Wickham – how could I have expected Mr. Darcy to join himself with a family so intimately connected with a man he must detest and revile to the very depths of his soul?"

"But Lizzy, surely all the trouble and expense Mr. Darcy undertook to bring about the marriage cannot have been solely out of concern for Lydia, or even his professed guilt at having failed to inform the world of Mr. Wickham's black character. From what you now tell me of our Aunt Gardiner's letter to you, relating all the details concerning what Mr. Darcy has done for our sister – and of her conviction that in fact it was all done for you – I find I must concur with our aunt. Notwithstanding the history of Lydia and Wickham, he must still wish to marry you!"

"I will confess that at one time I did believe that regardless of everything, his affection for me had survived. Yet on the two occasions that he came to Longbourn with Bingley I was greatly vexed by his reserved behaviour; he hardly spoke, and seemed so grave and aloof. I wished to believe that his apparent coldness was on account of his uneasiness in the company – our mother took every opportunity of making him feel unwelcome.

"If his purpose in accompanying Bingley into Hertfordshire, and then joining him in visiting and dining with us at Longbourn, was on account of what he felt for me – which I consider most probable – then perhaps the very strength of those feelings caused him embarrassment, and gave the false impression of indifference. I may tell you that my own giddy emotions had just that effect upon me.

"On both occasions I had great difficulty settling it in my mind what were his true feelings for me; my surmises swung constantly, and wildly, from one extreme to the other.

"You may recall that soon after the dinner at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy departed Hertfordshire for London, with the stated intention of returning within ten days. I resolved that if he did not keep his undertaking then I would know how to understand it; I would relinquish every expectation, every wish for his constancy – and as you know, he did not return."

"I wonder why?" pondered Jane. "What you have said thus far convinces me that despite everything, Mr. Darcy wishes to marry you. I must tell you that he behaves with the utmost courtesy and kindness towards me; it is more than simply good manners or gallantry; I believe he truly respects and likes me. He has evidently overcome all the objections that formerly prompted him to separate Charles from myself; so he must likewise have overcome the same objections regarding you. Something must have happened to make him change his opinion of you. Whatever can it be?"

"The interference of his meddling aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I suspect," said Elizabeth harshly, before proceeding to reveal the substance of her conversation with Lady Catherine at Longbourn. Jane was shocked at the confrontational nature of the meeting; however, her alarm at Elizabeth's outspoken defiance before so great a lady was tempered by a sense of admiration at her sister's courage.

"And having failed to prevail upon you, Lady Catherine immediately proceeded to London, and there endeavoured to persuade her nephew?"

"Yes," replied Elizabeth. "And evidently, she succeeded. She is a clever woman, who knows her nephew, and how to appeal to his pride and his notions of family dignity. She will have enumerated each and every one of our connections who are so far below his own; made much of the shameful circumstances of Lydia's elopement with the lowly son of his late father's steward; and will, doubtless, have delivered a flaming representation of my own character and behaviour."

"Are you quite certain that she was successful in prevailing upon her nephew? If he were truly in love with you, would he have been swayed by such arguments?"

"Oh yes, Jane, his every action – or lack of action – speaks of it: his failure to return into Hertfordshire and his continued absence from the neighbourhood. He came neither to congratulate his friend after your engagement was announced, nor to lend his support during the season of courtship. I can only wonder at the generosity of your husband in forgiving Mr. Darcy such indifference and discourtesy."

"Charles has a very forgiving nature, and he was far too happy at that time to be upset at anyone or anything. I do believe that his attentions were so occupied with myself that he thought of very little else," said Jane with a smile. "And Mr. Darcy did come back to Hertfordshire – albeit very briefly – for the wedding, to stand up with Charles."

"His visit was brief indeed: he arrived barely in time for the ceremony at the church, and left immediately the service was over – not even staying for the wedding breakfast. What extraordinary behaviour for a groomsman!"

"I do not know what excuses Mr. Darcy made," said Jane. "Charles was certainly astounded at the time; the departure was entirely unexpected. Charles had understood that his friend would remain at Netherfield Park for several days, at the very least."

"I can tell you exactly when Mr. Darcy changed his plans. It was at the end of the wedding ceremony in the church at Longbourn. As I was turning to follow you and Charles from the church, Mr. Darcy was likewise turning. Until that moment he had managed to avoid me. We found ourselves facing each other across the aisle and our eyes briefly met. The blood rushed to his face, which was fixed in a resolute mask of haughty disdain. Though it lasted but a moment, before he turned his face from me – I am still unable to banish that awful look of cold revulsion from my mind," said Elizabeth, slumping back in her chair, tears seeping from her closed eyes, as she struggled for breath.

Jane was immediately on her knees before her sister, taking Elizabeth's hands in her own, attempting to console her. She finally appreciated the true depth of her sister's attachment to Mr. Darcy, and how grievously she had suffered for it – and continued to suffer.

"Oh Lizzy, how entirely horrible it must have been for you. However have you been able to endure it all? And without me to console you? I feel so guilty for having neglected you in all the excitement of my marriage. And then I departed for London, leaving you to bear it all alone, while I was here in town, so joyful and happy."

Elizabeth forced herself to smile. "My dear Jane, you are too kind! You must not blame yourself for being happy when you were entirely ignorant of what I was feeling. And you did not leave me – it was our mamma's doing. She prevented me from coming to town with you because she wished to find me a husband. In any case, it would have been unbearable to have been here in London at that time – with Mr. Darcy – even though he would have avoided me as it appears he is now resolved upon."

"And now you shall have to bear it," said Jane sympathetically. "I know! The weather is becoming warmer. I shall consult with Charles to see if we can bring forward our wedding tour. That way, we shall be removed from London and Mr. Darcy. I dare say that it will save a good deal of embarrassment all round."

"No, Jane, I forbid it! You must not alter the arrangements for the wedding tour on my account. It is by no means warm enough, yet, to set out – there will still be many days that are too cold for comfortable travel. I say this as much for myself as for you and Charles. I am so looking forward to our tour of the Lakes – what a shame it would be if the weather were inclement and spoiled our sightseeing."

"I fear you will not be happy here in town, Lizzy, and it grieves me."

"Do not grieve for me, dear Jane; I am resolved to be entirely contented. It is several months since I last saw Mr. Darcy, and I am now reconciled to the loss of his regard. I do not mean to spend my entire life lamenting him. He is the good friend of your husband, and as I hope to be often in your company, it is inevitable that we must sometimes meet. I am determined to bear such occasions with equanimity and good grace; and I expect nothing less from a man of Mr. Darcy's breeding."

"Of course, you are quite right, Lizzy. If this cancellation is on your account, as I am now convinced it must be, I am sure Mr. Darcy will think better of it the next time, and behave more sensibly. It would be very sad if your presence at Fairfield Gardens made it awkward for Charles and Mr. Darcy to meet – or for his sister, Georgiana, and myself; for I have become most fond of her."

* * *

Observing Elizabeth closely, Jane could readily discern that though her sister smiled and tried bravely to conceal her pain, that confidence and liveliness she so admired in her was absent. Intent upon distracting her, she proposed that they sample some of the amusements of London. Elizabeth was not greatly interested in the fashionable shops of The Strand, Pall Mall, or Bond Street; but she was eager to visit the _Temple of the Muses_, a book emporium in Finsbury Square, which she had heard stocked a prodigious number of titles at most reasonable prices.

* * *

After perusing the shelves at length, Jane and Elizabeth seated themselves in one of the lounges provided for customers to scrutinise potential purchases. Elizabeth was inspecting a volume of poetry when Jane, who had been surreptitiously surveying the fashions of the many young ladies present, suddenly rose to her feet and waved to an acquaintance.

Looking up from her book, Elizabeth apprehended Georgiana Darcy approaching them, accompanied by her companion, Mrs. Annesley. "I did not know you were in town!" exclaimed Georgiana in obvious delight. Clearly, her brother had not confided his intelligence of Elizabeth's arrival at Fairfield Gardens in his sister; although, from the embarrassed manner in which she spoke of her regret at Miss Bennet's sudden and unexpected departure from Derbyshire the previous summer, it was evident that she knew something of the scandal involving Lydia which had precipitated it.

Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth felt certain, would not have wished to venture upon that subject with his sister on account of the involvement of Mr. Wickham and her own painful history with that gentleman, in very similar circumstances. However, Caroline Bingley, even had she been aware of the prior incident involving Miss Darcy, would have scrupled not to spare her the least sordid detail of the affair involving Lydia; doubtless embellished with a contemptuous account of the Bennets, their lack of propriety, breeding, and connections.

It was evident from Georgiana's behaviour that any such exertions on the part of Miss Bingley had been wasted. Her affection for Jane was unmistakable, and she appeared equally warmly disposed towards Elizabeth – although there was some measure of confusion, perhaps on account of the expectations that had arisen in her mind in Derbyshire, concerning her brother and Miss Bennet. Georgiana was delighted to learn that Elizabeth would be staying with Jane for some time, and expressed a desire to be often in their company. It was evident that a warm friendship had developed between Georgiana and Jane, for there was none of the shyness Elizabeth had observed in Derbyshire.

Georgiana expressed her regret at the unexpected cancellation of the previous day's dinner engagement. Elizabeth detected some discomfort in her apology, and surmised that she was not privy to her brother's reasons. Jane invited Georgiana to wait on them the following day and she accepted the invitation eagerly. "It will be delightful to be in the company of you and your sister. I am desperate to seek your guidance and advice on how I must behave at Lady Netherby's ball, in two days time, for I am feeling most anxious."

Jane took Georgiana's hand and smiled. "It will all be well, I am certain; and both Elizabeth and I will be there to support you, my dear. I wrote to her ladyship to inform her that my sister Kitty would not be able to attend, as she returned to Longbourn, but that another of my sisters would come in her place. Lady Netherby replied at once, inviting Elizabeth to attend the ball."

"And I must tell you, my dear," confided Elizabeth to Georgiana, "that I, too, am nervous at the prospect; for though I have attended balls at the Assembly Rooms at Meryton, I have never, in my life, attended anything so grand as a London ball – and I believe that Lady Netherby's balls are quite famous. I do believe that the ball Mr. Bingley gave at Netherfield Park is the very pinnacle of my experience."

"Where you danced with my brother," replied Georgiana with a shy smile. "He spoke warmly of the grace of your performance, and of the happiness it gave him to dance with you. It surprised me greatly, as I had always believed him to disdain the amusement. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of seeing him dance with you at Lady Netherby's ball?"

Elizabeth blushed deeply at Georgiana's suggestion. The conversation concerning their dancing together at Netherfield Park was likely made while Elizabeth was in Derbyshire, when Mr. Darcy had behaved with such amiability and generosity – both towards herself and to her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. It was evident at the time that he wished for Elizabeth and Georgiana to think well of each other, that they should come to love each other as sisters. Elizabeth felt certain that whatever it was that had caused Mr. Darcy to change his mind, and set his heart against her – be it the words of Lady Catherine, or something else entirely, that Georgiana was completely ignorant of the matter.

Wishing to hide her embarrassment, Elizabeth asked, "But why are you nervous about attending Lady Netherby's ball? Is it your very first ball?"

"Yes," sighed Georgiana, "indeed it is, and if it depended upon my wishes only, I should not go at all. But my brother has hinted that he considers it is time for me to come out into society, and though he would never insist upon it, I know it must give him great pleasure, particularly as Lady Netherby's son, Lord Netherby, is a particular friend of his; he has asked me for the first two dances, to open the ball."

"Good gracious, it is hardly surprising, then, that you should feel anxious," said Elizabeth, taking Georgiana's hand in hers and smiling sympathetically. "But I am sure you will carry it off with dignity and poise." Secretly Elizabeth wondered how she, herself, would manage to sustain those very qualities in the company of Miss Darcy's brother.

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	3. The Ball

_**Chapter 3 ~ The Ball**_

The following morning a letter arrived for Jane, who was seated with Elizabeth in the morning room awaiting the arrival of Miss Darcy. She read it to her sister.

"'_Dear Jane,_

_To my great regret, I shall be unable to call upon you and your sister today as I had intended. My brother wishes me to remain quietly at home today as he fears that I have been exerting myself too much of late, and that I must conserve my energy for the ball tomorrow. I look forward most earnestly to seeing and speaking with both yourself and your sister, Elizabeth, tomorrow night at Lady Netherby's. _

_Yours, etc…'_"

"Yes, a great exertion it would be, indeed," exclaimed Elizabeth, "to ride ten minutes in a carriage from one sitting room to another, to talk and drink tea and then ride home again!"

"Surely you do not think Mr. Darcy would wish to prevent his sister from meeting with you?" asked Jane.

"There is no other explanation," replied Elizabeth.

"But it makes not the least bit of sense. Whatever his aunt can have said to Mr. Darcy about your unsuitability as a marriage partner – regarding our family, our want of connections, the occupations and circumstances of our relatives – they apply equally to myself; and Mr. Darcy has not only allowed and encouraged the friendship between his sister and myself, but he has always treated me with the utmost civility and respect. What possible objection could he have to his sister being in your company? I do not understand it," said Jane, shaking her head.

"Nor I," replied Elizabeth. "Either he imagines some great evil of me that might contaminate his sister, or he detests me. There is no other explanation, though I cannot imagine what grounds he could have for either."

"How entirely awful for you, my poor dear Lizzy. How shall you bear it?" asked Jane, rising from her chair and seating herself beside Elizabeth and offering her handkerchief. "How shall you endure being at the same ball as him tomorrow?"

Elizabeth brushed aside the proffered handkerchief, took a deep breath, and sat herself erect beside Jane. "I am determined to cry not another tear for that unfathomable man!"

* * *

As they entered Lady Netherby's lavishly arranged ballroom, Jane was delighted at how well her blue satin ball gown looked upon her sister. "Why, Lizzy, I do believe it suits you better than it does me. I am determined to make you a gift of it; for you have nothing suitable for such occasions and I have several lovely gowns."

"Oh Jane, thank you! You are so kind and generous. It is truly a beautiful gown."

Jane was not the only person present to notice how lovely Elizabeth was looking and compliment her on her appearance. Colonel Fitzwilliam approached with Georgiana on his arm. "Miss Bennet, I have been very much looking forward to renewing our acquaintance, ever since my young cousin informed me that you would be attending the ball tonight," said the colonel, bowing to her. "Allow me to tell you how magnificent you look this evening."

Elizabeth curtsied and smiled warmly. "Thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I, too, am very happy to see you. I did not know that you would be in attendance tonight, although perhaps I should have guessed, it being so significant an occasion for Miss Darcy."

Georgiana blushed, and looked nervously about at all the splendidly attired ladies and gentlemen, knowing that all eyes would be on her in a few minutes when she opened the ball with Lord Netherby. Jane, understanding her friend's anxiety squeezed her arm gently and said, "You have nothing to fear, my dear, you are amongst friends. Charles and I will join you in the set."

"Miss Bennet," begged the colonel, "if you are not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the first two with me?"

Elizabeth gladly assented, and the colonel offered her one arm, and the other to Georgiana, in order to escort her to Lord Netherby, as it was apparent from the flourishes coming from the balcony that the orchestra was about to begin playing the first dance. As they crossed the ballroom, Elizabeth noted with alarm that Colonel Fitzwilliam was steering them towards two gentlemen, one of whom was Mr. Darcy. She guessed that the younger gentleman with whom he was conversing must be Lord Edward Netherby.

Despite her earnest resolve to enjoy the ball and not allow herself to become discomposed on account of Mr. Darcy, she felt distressed and in need of the support of the colonel's arm. They were but half a dozen yards from the gentlemen when Mr. Darcy glanced up and saw them approaching. His face coloured as he uttered a brief pardon to Lord Netherby, before turning and walking briskly away. To the others, it might have seemed nothing more than him realising that the dance was about to begin, and thus hastening to find his partner; but Elizabeth was quite certain that it was to avoid encountering her.

Colonel Fitzwilliam introduced Elizabeth to Lord Netherby, a fine-looking gentleman of two and twenty or thereabouts. He was well-spoken and charming, and behaved with the utmost politeness and gallantry towards her. Whatever reason Darcy had for disliking and avoiding her, it was evident that he had not shared it with his sister, his cousin, or his friend, Lord Edward Netherby. In fact, Lord Netherby seemed quite taken with Elizabeth, and before offering his arm to Georgiana to walk to the top of the set to open the ball, he took the opportunity of asking Elizabeth to do him the honour of dancing the third set with him.

Elizabeth's spirits were restored after Darcy's cold snub. He would have to abstain from dancing, entirely, if he wished to completely avoid her, reflected Elizabeth; for the dances would most certainly involve the changing of partners. Regardless of how Mr. Darcy behaved, she determined not to be embarrassed and hide her eyes from him; but rather, she would treat him coolly, as a distant acquaintance of no account. He would doubtless remain silent, and she would likewise make no attempt at engaging him in conversation. Elizabeth's resolve was not put to the test, however; for it being a large ballroom, there were several sets, and Mr. Darcy contrived to always place himself in a different set from the one in which Elizabeth was situated.

While they were dancing, Colonel Fitzwilliam hinted to Elizabeth that Darcy would look with favour upon a match between his sister and Lord Netherby.

"And what does Miss Darcy think of the idea?" asked Elizabeth. "She is yet young; this is her first ball. She is, in all likelihood, very far from ready to find – or to be found – a husband."

"Yes, I am of much the same opinion; and I would be surprised if Darcy wishes to lose his sister quite so soon; he is very fond of Georgiana. Perhaps it is more in the nature of something he would like to see happen; but not for some years yet. The Netherbys are a very respectable family from Nottinghamshire. Their estate at Fendalton Park is little more than a dozen miles from Pemberley. A union between the two families would be to the benefit of them both."

"And what sort of young man is Lord Netherby?" asked Elizabeth.

"Due to the proximity of the estates, Darcy has been acquainted with him and his family for much of his life. I believe that my cousin and Lord Netherby attended the same school and university. Darcy has, naturally, made extensive enquiries into Lord Netherby's character and history. On account of my shared guardianship of Miss Darcy, I am privy to the information; the reports are all most favourable. He is an intelligent, well-informed, and serious young man of excellent character."

"I am pleased to hear it – these are all admirable qualities – and furthermore, he is handsome and charming. However, this does not guarantee that every young lady must fall in love with him or wish to marry him," said Elizabeth with a smile.

After dancing the second set with Charles Bingley, Elizabeth had the opportunity to form her own opinion of Lord Netherby, for she was engaged to him for the third. She found him everything that was gallant and charming. They conversed with much animation, firstly upon music and then literature. The gentleman owned to literary aspirations.

"Have you had anything published?" asked Elizabeth.

"Some sonnets and an ode or two in one of the quarterlies," he replied.

"Oh, I should love to read them!" exclaimed Elizabeth. "Pray tell me the particulars of the publications."

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet, if I do not oblige you; I am not entirely pleased with my efforts to date, and would not wish to place them before your keen and discerning eye." Elizabeth was surprised, but with not the least disapprobation, at Lord Netherby's modesty, and she keenly felt the compliment he paid her.

When it was time for the supper, Elizabeth found herself seated with Bingley, Jane, and Georgiana. Bingley seemed surprised that Darcy chose to seat himself at a distant table with his own sister, Caroline, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.

Georgiana, while not understanding why her brother chose to seat himself away from them, found herself well pleased with the arrangement when the pianoforte was opened after the supper. Her brother had indicated that he wished her to exhibit her considerable virtuosity at the instrument before the assembled company, most especially on account of it being the occasion of her coming out into society. Georgiana averted her gaze from her brother's table while they were being entertained by several young ladies, and sat in dread of his approach, and the inevitable request to which she must accede. But most unaccountably – and mercifully – he did not come. She could scarcely imagine that Caroline Bingley could so engross her brother's interest that he would forget his intention of having her play; yet she was far too afraid of his catching her eye to look in his direction to ascertain what was the reason.

Lord Netherby's sister, Victoria, completed the entertainment by regaling them with some beautiful French chansons. For the final two songs she was joined by her brother, whose voice was every bit as fine as her own; Elizabeth listened with rapt attention. At the end of the performance, Lord Netherby led his sister in their direction, and Elizabeth was surprised when it became evident that his purpose was to introduce her to his sister. Miss Netherby, she guessed, must be around the same age as Jane. Her gown was exquisite; yet despite her very elegant attire, Miss Netherby was no more than tolerably handsome. Her address was pleasing; she spoke with confidence, intelligence, and warmth. Elizabeth found herself immediately well-disposed towards her, but was at a loss to account for why Lord Netherby should take the trouble of coming all the way over to their table to make the introduction.

Elizabeth's alarm increased when Lord Netherby asked her to do him the honour of dancing another set with him, later in the evening. She hoped that he was not developing a preference for her. Despite her high opinion of the gentleman and his good looks and amiability, she felt nothing more than that. In truth, though she would not own to it, despite all her best intentions, it was impossible for her to be in the same room as Mr. Darcy and not be constantly cognisant of that gentleman – where he was standing or seated, to whom he was speaking, or with whom he was dancing.

Elizabeth was relieved to see Lord Netherby lead Georgiana to the dance, for while she was in no way privy to Georgiana's feelings for Lord Netherby, if she did like him, it would be distressing if Georgiana mistakenly perceived her as a competitor for his heart.

"Whatever has happened to Mr. Darcy?" asked Miss Netherby. "He has engaged me for this set – but he does not come!" Elizabeth, who stood facing Miss Netherby, felt her face redden, for she caught sight of Mr. Darcy standing off in the distance, occasionally glancing surreptitiously in their direction, evidently unwilling to approach while she stood beside Miss Netherby. Fortunately, the gentleman to whom Elizabeth was engaged for the set approached to lead her to the dance.

Elizabeth enjoyed her second two dances with Lord Netherby; there were few men whose conversation she enjoyed as much as his. She danced again with Colonel Fitzwilliam and by the end of the night found that she had been engaged for every dance.

* * *

Upon inspecting her sister's card the following morning, Jane said with a smile, "Last night's ball was, I imagine, a vastly different experience for you to one particular Meryton assembly I can recall." They were taking tea in the sitting room, recounting the details of the previous evening.

Elizabeth smiled. "I do believe, dear Jane, that you and I shall always have very different memories of that assembly. For you, it was the beginning of so much joy and happiness; yet I will always regret that night, and wish my whole life long that I had never set eyes upon Mr. Darcy." And despite all her good intentions and resolve, Elizabeth broke into tears.

Jane took her sister's hand, but could think of nothing to say that might comfort her. After a wonderful ball at which she had been much admired and sought after by many a fine gentleman, including the delightful Lord Edward Netherby, Elizabeth's head was still full of Mr. Darcy. Jane resolved to get her sister away from London. The weather was improving; they must begin the wedding tour as soon as arrangements could be concluded.

However, as it transpired, the urgency in beginning the wedding tour soon disappeared. Georgiana Darcy had promised to wait on them that very morning; for a ball is not truly over until it has been talked of at length, the gowns and jewellery worn by the ladies commented on, and a review carried out of who danced with whom – and whether this gentleman or that lady showed an uncommon preference for one or other of their partners.

"I fear that Miss Darcy will not be joining us this morning," said Elizabeth. "If her brother should learn of her intention, he will almost certainly find a reason to prevent it."

"Perhaps you are wrong," said Jane, just at that moment hearing a knock at the front door. But when the butler appeared, it was not to lead Miss Darcy into the room, but to hand his mistress a message which had just arrived from the young lady.

"Good heavens," said Jane, shaking her head, before reading to Elizabeth.

"'_My Dear Jane, _

_I must confess that I do not understand men – least of all my dear brother. Last night in the carriage, as we returned from the ball, he informed me that it was essential that he depart for Derbyshire without delay; and having no intention of immediately returning to London, he wishes me to accompany him. _

_There was no time to be lost, he said, and thus regrettably, I am unable to call upon you to bid you and Elizabeth my fond adieus. By the time you read this note, we will be on our way to Pemberley._

_I remember you speaking of your plans to take your wedding tour in the Lakes. Pemberley is not very far out of your way; please come and visit us on your return journey. It will be delightful to have you and Elizabeth stay some time at Pemberley, and my brother is always happy in Mr. Bingley's company. _

_Yours, etc…'_"

Elizabeth gave an ironic laugh. "I doubt very much that Miss Darcy consulted her brother before issuing an invitation to Pemberley that included me."

"No," agreed Jane. "We shall steer well clear of Pemberley. Evidently Georgiana is unaware of her brother's inexplicable feelings concerning you. I am quite certain that Charles, too, has not the least idea about it. He will be astonished and hurt when he learns of Mr. Darcy's abrupt departure without forewarning or farewell. Do you think I should tell him, Lizzy, that his friend's peculiar behaviour is on account of you?"

"I beg you not to speak of it, Jane; it would only make me feel awkward. You cannot explain Mr. Darcy's behaviour, for it is inexplicable, and I fear that it would lessen your husband's regard for his friend, and might perhaps give rise to resentment and anger. I do not wish to be the cause of the loss of such a staunch and longstanding friendship."

When the butler brought in the morning post, it included a letter from Mrs. Bennet, announcing the engagement of Mary to Mr. Septimus Tiddlington. Elizabeth had already related to Jane the amusing details of how she had deflected that reverend gentleman's matrimonial aspirations – so effectively aroused by their mother – from herself to Mary. News of the betrothal had long been anticipated by the sisters, and they were unsurprised to discover that the engagement was to be of but a short duration – no doubt in consequence of their mother's counselling the naïve young rector of the propriety of a brief engagement, in her desire to see Mary securely settled as mistress of the parsonage as soon as may be.

"I shall speak with Charles," said Jane. "We shall delay our wedding tour a little, and make Longbourn the first destination; for it is on our way northwards. Will you mind spending another month in town, Lizzy?"

"No, not all," replied Elizabeth. With Darcy's departure, there was no longer any need to hasten the beginning of the wedding tour, and Elizabeth wished to see more of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and their delightful children before departing London.

"I am very happy for our sister, Lizzy. Do you think they will be happy together? Does Mary love him, do you think?"

"I believe they shall, very likely, be happy, for their characters and interests are quite alike. As to love, I do not know; Mary is the least romantic of us all. Yet even before my little manoeuvre to deflect his matrimonial ambitions in her direction, I had reason to think that she possibly favoured the rector, for I sometimes caught her glancing admiringly in his direction."

"As I recall," replied Jane, smiling, "she also used to steal glances at Mr. Collins. At the time I suspected that Mary had hopes that she would be the daughter of our father whom he chose to take as a wife – and I was inclined to believe that she might very likely have accepted him."

Elizabeth laughed. "I confess I did not notice our sister's interest in the absurd Mr. Collins – most probably because I, myself, was so industriously engaged in parrying his awkward attentions. But even had I noticed, I would never have thought to encourage him to think of Mary, as I did with Mr. Tiddlington, who is far more sensible and vastly superior to our ridiculous cousin in every imaginable way."

"Her apparent interest in Mr. Collins surprised me at the time," confided Jane, "for the manifold peculiarities of that gentleman aside, I always believed Mary to be disinterested in marriage, and the most likely of the five of us to end an old maid."

"Yes, I too," replied Elizabeth. "Perhaps it is more the attraction of being a clergyman's wife, than a wife _per se_. Mary is so very fond of moralising; and while Kitty and Lydia provided ample opportunities, soon she will have the conduct of a whole parish to preside over in righteous judgement."

Jane smiled. "Kitty, I fear, will be annoyed at being beaten to the altar by Mary, especially with Lydia and myself already married. I imagine she must by now be anxious to find a husband."

"And will certainly receive all possible assistance from our dear mother. And after Kitty is wed, it will be just myself remaining at Longbourn," said Elizabeth, sighing and shaking her head hopelessly. "Our mother will be forever seeking out suitors – however shall I endure the endless hours of her silly conversation in the parlour? Notwithstanding our excellent father and his well-informed mind, I fear that our mother may at length succeed in inducing me to marry – if only to get away from her! Do you know if Mr. Collins has any brothers or cousins, perchance?" asked Elizabeth.

"Lizzy," said Jane, becoming serious, "you know that it has long been Charles' intention to purchase a country estate. He is resolved to begin searching in earnest for a suitable property after our wedding tour. It is the fond wish of us both, that it shall be your home, also, for as long as you remain unmarried."

"Oh, thank you, dear Jane," said Elizabeth. "I am most grateful to you and Charles; it is just what I would want. But I must warn you that you will have me forever; for I think it very unlikely that I shall ever wish to marry."

"Lizzy dear, while I sincerely hope that you will one day find a partner as wonderful as my dear Bingley, and know the felicity and joy that we have found together, if it is your wish to remain unwed, then your home must always be with us."

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	4. The Wedding Tour

_**Chapter 4 ~ The Wedding Tour**_

In April, Elizabeth arrived in Hertfordshire in the company of Jane and Charles Bingley, at the commencement of their wedding tour. Elizabeth would spend the week in Longbourn, while Jane and Bingley stayed nearby with an acquaintance of his. Elizabeth was pleased to be at home again, but also relieved that the visit would be of but a short duration, for her mother's moods were as extreme as ever. Mrs. Bennet was either ebullient at the great good fortune of having a third daughter at the point of marriage (and one whom she had hardly hoped would ever be so), or she was vexed at her husband's stubborn refusal to invite Lydia and Wickham to Longbourn for the wedding. Mary was exceedingly pleased with her father's resolution, for she did not wish to have her nuptials thus tainted.

"Your mother's memory, I fear, is somewhat defective," said Mr. Bennet to Elizabeth as they were seated one evening in the privacy of his library. "I have neither forgotten nor forgiven that scoundrel Wickham, for the trouble he has given me. I hope never to set eyes upon him again. Your mother imagined that I might wish to send them the funds for the journey from Newcastle, of which, no doubt, they would be in need; for Wickham is certain to be in debt again."

"I fear that Mr. Wickham is a man who will always spend or gamble away more than his income," said Elizabeth. "Poor Lydia; she seems destined to a life of difficulty."

"Your sister has no one to blame but herself. They will, doubtless, never have quite enough money to live upon; however, she is so impervious to the opinions and censure of society that the wayward behaviour of her husband is likely to cause her very little shame. It is I who must suffer the shame – of being unable to repay my brother Gardiner."

Opening a ledger, he pointed with his quill towards some calculations he had made. "Even the most austere retrenchments in expenditure will yield but three or four hundred pounds a year; and your mother, I fear, will complain bitterly at the curtailment of so many luxuries," he said, shaking his head. "Your uncle refuses to tell me what it cost him to prevail upon Wickham to marry my daughter. He says that I owe him nothing, but how can I believe it? He must have laid out ten or twelve thousand pounds, at least. It will take thirty or forty years to repay such a sum – and I will certainly not live that long."

Elizabeth could bear her father's sorrow and shame no longer. "Papa, my uncle is speaking the truth. Although he would gladly have used his own money to bring about Lydia's wedding, he did not. It was paid for entirely by another."

Mr. Bennet looked up disbelievingly. "Lizzy, what are you talking of? Who else in the world could have an interest in the matter?"

"Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy? Why on earth would Darcy care whether Wickham married Lydia – it makes not the slightest sense! Lydia is nothing to Darcy, and as I recall, when the militia were quartered in Meryton last year, Wickham took every opportunity to blacken his name."

Elizabeth was now obliged to communicate some of the substance of the letter Mr. Darcy had written in Kent. She revealed the whole of the history between Wickham and Darcy – concealing only the identity of Miss Darcy. She simply said that Wickham had attempted to elope with a young lady of Mr. Darcy's acquaintance, who was but fifteen years old.

"But Lizzy, this all seems so implausible. Why would Mr. Darcy consider himself responsible for Wickham's wickedness – or Lydia's stupidity? I cannot believe it!"

"It seems that Mr. Darcy believed that it was on account of his mistaken pride, and reluctance to lay open the details which I have just now recounted, that Wickham's true character had not been known to the world. He blamed himself for concealing Wickham's history, which, had it been known, would have made it impossible for any young woman of character to believe or love him. Consequently, he considered it his duty to remedy this evil which had been brought about on account of his actions."

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "I am astounded! Contrary to all the unfavourable reports of his character, it transpires that Darcy is the most noble of men! I feel quite ashamed of myself for the poor opinion I previously held of him. I believe that you, my dear, were the source of much of my former information concerning Mr. Darcy; however, I do not blame you for so grossly misunderstanding him, for you hardly know the man."

Elizabeth blushed deeply and looked away, feeling greatly embarrassed – but also relieved that her father was entirely ignorant of the tangled and troubled history of her acquaintance with the gentleman.

"Perhaps you were too hasty in forming your opinions, my dear. I am a great believer in learning from one's mistakes," counselled Mr. Bennet.

"Yes," agreed Elizabeth, managing a wry smile. "I am fortunate to have so great an opportunity to learn."

Mr. Bennet chuckled before again becoming serious. "Lizzy, my dear, I am quite prepared to believe everything you now tell me about Darcy and Wickham; but how on earth did you come to know all of this? Mr. Darcy, after all, is no friend of yours."

_No friend, indeed_, reflected Elizabeth, sadly, recalling Mr. Darcy's recent cold behaviour towards her. "Mr. Darcy prevailed upon everyone – Lydia, Wickham, and the Gardiners – to keep his part in the affair secret. Lydia first betrayed Mr. Darcy's involvement when she and her husband visited Longbourn. I received further information from my Aunt Gardiner, who… mistakenly believed me to have some knowledge of the matter. That is why my uncle could not tell you that it was Mr. Darcy, and not he, who paid for everything.

"It was also Mr. Darcy, who, as a result of his long association with Wickham, was able to discover where he and my sister were hiding. He then engaged in the odious task of haggling over how much he must bribe the scoundrel to marry her."

"I must write to Mr. Darcy immediately, to thank him," said Mr. Bennet, "and of course I must offer to repay him – albeit very slowly."

"No, Father! Please, I beg of you, do not write! Mr. Darcy will certainly not accept a penny from you; and he will be vastly unhappy to learn that confidences have been broken, and his secret revealed. It is true that we owe him a great deal; but it is a debt that can neither be acknowledged nor repaid. The only possible way to repay his kindness is to keep it secret, as he wishes, and to tell no one!"

"Lizzy, you seem upset; what is the matter, my dear?"

"There is nothing the matter, Papa." Elizabeth searched desperately for some way of explaining her aroused emotions. "It is only that I find it difficult to think and talk about Lydia and her elopement without becoming discomposed. At the time, the shame of it was almost unbearable. It seemed that the marriage prospects of Jane, Mary, Kitty, and myself were forever blighted."

"And very likely, they might have been, were it not for Mr. Darcy! Though, it seems, we can never thank him, we have greatly benefited from his generosity. Jane is now happily married to Mr. Bingley, and tomorrow it shall be Mary's turn. She, too, I believe, will be happy. Indeed, she could not have chosen a better or more suitable partner."

"I think it is my mother, rather than Mary, who deserves the credit. I doubt very much that the good reverend would have ever contemplated marriage had it not been for mamma's steadfast encouragement."

Mr. Bennet laughed. "Yes, your mother's blind enthusiasm for the institution seems to be somewhat contagious – although you, my dear Lizzy, would appear to be immune to it. Nevertheless, I believe Mr. Tiddlington, too, will be happy, and have reason to thank your mother. Whereas Mary, perhaps, has more reason for thanking you," he added with a conspiratorial smile.

* * *

Despite the joy of seeing her sister wed, it was a considerable trial for Elizabeth, who again shared the honour of bridesmaid with Kitty. Her thoughts would not remain in the present moment, but continually returned to Jane's wedding, six months earlier, where she had stood in the same church with Mr. Darcy. Try as she might, she could not banish that awful image from her mind, of his face, an icy mask of haughty disdain, when for the briefest of moments they had faced each other across the aisle, and their eyes met. Though the service was soon over, it unleashed the same tormenting thoughts which had plagued her at that time. Try as she might, Elizabeth could neither understand his behaviour nor prevent herself from endlessly conjecturing upon it.

Fortunately, with all the excitement of Mary's wedding, no one paid a great deal of attention to Elizabeth, and only Jane noticed her low spirits; she had no difficulty in understanding their cause or how her poor sister's mind must be occupied. So sunken was Elizabeth in her sad, perplexing thoughts, that she barely noticed her mother's absurd hints as to the desirability as a marriage partner of the rector from the neighbouring parish, who had officiated at the wedding service.

* * *

Jane earnestly hoped that once they had departed Hertfordshire for the Lakes, with nothing to remind her of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth would recover her spirits – and she was not disappointed. Elizabeth had purchased a copy of Thomas West's _Guide to the Lakes_ in London and was determined to savour all the famous beauty spots. Strolling with Jane beside lovely Lake Grasmere one afternoon, she confided, "Mr. Darcy is forever forgotten! What are mere men compared to beauty and grandeur such as this? If only we could live our lives enfolded in nature's exquisite embrace."

"It may be a rather cold embrace in winter, I fear, dear Lizzy. However, I can think of no reason why a fine country home may not be surrounded by nature's beauty – if not, perhaps, on quite so grand a scale as this."

"Yet all too often, it is such a tame and ordered beauty, in which nature's wild artistry is almost entirely buried beneath man's designs. I recall that many of the parks and gardens of the grand estates I visited with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner last summer, were of that ilk."

"Were there none sufficiently untamed and unaffected as to delight you, Lizzy?"

After a moment's reflection Elizabeth replied, "Only one."

"And which grand estate was that?" asked Jane.

"Pemberley."

"Oh!" exclaimed Jane. Wishing to avert her sister's thoughts from Pemberley – and its owner – she quickly added, "I believe you are aware that Charles has engaged an agent to locate suitable properties for us to inspect. There is one we pass on our return journey, somewhere in Cheshire, that is renowned for the pristine rustic beauty of its grounds. The agent reports that they are yet untouched by the present passion for improvement."

* * *

The report of Bingley's agent regarding the estate in Cheshire was indeed accurate. It was named Willowbank for the graceful willows that lined the banks of the not inconsiderable, and more importantly, entirely unaltered, river which flowed delightfully through its grounds. The ladies fell immediately in love with it. Bingley, too, was charmed, and eager to purchase, but he was unable to make so important a decision without first consulting Mr. Darcy.

"Let us drive to Pemberley immediately," he said. "It can be little more than an hour away."

"So close?" exclaimed Elizabeth in alarm.

"Yes. Willowbank lies between Macclesfield and Buxton, which is in the neighbouring county of Derbyshire. I reckon it can be no more than ten or twelve miles from Pemberley."

Elizabeth found herself immediately assailed by thoughts of Mr. Darcy. The ease and peace of mind that had been hers over the past several weeks entirely vanished. How would he behave towards her in his own home, she wondered, where he could not possibly avoid her, and where good breeding demanded that he treat his guests respectfully and with good grace?

Jane looked with concern at her sister, anticipating what thoughts and feelings must beset her as they journeyed towards Pemberley. But it could not be avoided. Her dear Charles was entirely dependent upon Mr. Darcy's opinion in matters of such magnitude.

* * *

When the butler showed them into the sitting room at Pemberley, Miss Darcy was unable to conceal her great delight at receiving them, but her brother appeared entirely discomposed. Though he greeted them with the customary formalities, and even managed to utter the words "Miss Bennet" flatly as he bowed stiffly to Elizabeth, he studiously avoided looking in her direction. She had never in her life seen him conduct himself so awkwardly, and the singularity of his behaviour could not have escaped the notice of the rest of the party.

Bingley explained the purpose of their visit and spoke of Willowbank with excessive enthusiasm. "It is everything that I could possibly wish for, Darcy. The rooms are large and perfectly proportioned; and the grounds are delightful. The area through which flows the river is on a par, I believe, with some of the famed beauty spots we have recently visited in the Lakes country. The house is not on quite so grand a scale as Pemberley, or the grounds as extensive as yours – but then neither is my fortune," he added with a deferential smile. "Yet it is entirely perfect for me; I am absolutely determined to have it. However, I first wish to hear your opinion of the property. Are you at all familiar with it? If not, perhaps tomorrow we could ride over to take a look together?"

"I have heard of Willowbank. There were two brothers at Eton, as I recall, from the place; but I have never seen it myself. Let us ride there now, without delay," said Darcy, rising abruptly from his chair, evidently anxious to be on his way – _to anywhere that I am not_, thought Elizabeth.

"Dear Brother, will not you and Mr. Bingley first dine with us? It is almost the hour for the meal," protested his sister, astounded at her brother's haste, and the uncharacteristic lack of civility demonstrated towards the ladies.

"Err… no, I think not," said Darcy, making a show of taking out his golden pocket watch and consulting it carefully for some time, evidently searching for a plausible explanation for such exceptional behaviour. "Bingley and I can take something at the inn in Buxton. No, we must depart immediately if we are to have sufficient time to inspect the buildings and all the grounds."

"Surely not, Darcy," remonstrated his friend, consulting his own timepiece. "We have a good seven hours of daylight yet – the park is not so large that we will require half a day to do it justice – it is not Pemberley! My agent informs me that there is presently no other interested party; if you believe it will require such a great deal of time, then our inspection may well wait another day."

But Darcy would not be persuaded, and in a matter of minutes, he and Bingley had decamped. Elizabeth doubted not for a moment that the abruptness of his departure was entirely on account of his desire to be out of her presence. Though she was well aware of his aversion by this time, to be together in the same room as he, and experience it so directly, was almost more than she could bear. As she struggled to appear unaffected to their hostess, Elizabeth attempted to direct her attention outwards to her surroundings. This, however, was of little help, for she was reminded of her previous visit to Pemberley, when she and her aunt came to wait upon Miss Darcy. She recalled how delightful she found it on that day; and of her hopeful feelings, and the fancy she could not suppress, that Darcy still loved her, and that very soon this beautiful home might also be hers, and dear Georgiana a beloved sister. How hopeless and distant a dream that all seemed now.

* * *

Bingley rejoined the ladies in the sitting room in the late afternoon, eager to report the outcome of their inspection of Willowbank from whence he was just returned. "Darcy's approbation of the property was hardly less than my own. Our survey of the house and stables, and other major buildings, elicited only favourable opinions, and I thought him as pleased and charmed by grounds and park as myself. But then, confound the man, if he did not at the end of it all advise me against purchasing the place! Pray excuse me, Miss Darcy, for speaking of your brother in so forthright a manner, but I am somewhat vexed at the present moment."

"How extraordinary, Charles," exclaimed Jane. "What reason did Mr. Darcy give for so unexpected a recommendation?"

"None that could in any way satisfy me!" said Bingley, shaking his head in bewilderment. "First of all, he attempted to persuade me that I would find it a most inconvenient distance from town."

"But it is hardly further from London than Pemberley, and I have never heard Mr. Darcy complain of the length of the journey. Have you, my dear?" asked Jane, turning towards Georgiana.

"No, never," replied Georgiana, shaking her head, feeling both confused and embarrassed at her brother's baffling behaviour.

"Nor I!" exclaimed Bingley. "And when I pointed this out to him, Darcy replied with some nonsense about my not being fond of travelling! I have not the least idea what grounds he could possibly have for forming such an opinion; I am certain that I have never once said anything of the kind."

"In any case, Charles, how many times would we be likely to make the journey to town each year, once we are well settled? Twice – or thrice perhaps – hardly often enough for it to be a major consideration," reasoned Jane.

"Quite right!" said her husband. "Darcy then attempted to persuade me that I would find the winters not to my liking. The northerly clime, he claimed, was far colder than either you or I are accustomed to; and I had better look for something in a more southerly locale, such as Surry or Sussex."

"The winters may indeed be colder than those I am used to in Hertfordshire, my dear; but I do not believe that it would trouble me in the least. Can the winters in Willowbank be a great deal colder than here at Pemberley?" asked Jane.

"No, not a bit," replied Bingley. "It is no more than a mile or two more northerly, and being closer to the Irish Sea, in all likelihood, it is a little warmer. Even Darcy could not deny it. I reassured him, that having stayed with him at Pemberley in winter, that I found it much to my liking, and that I did not anticipate that you would be much troubled by the difference in climate."

"Then Mr. Darcy cannot but have been reassured of the suitability of Willowbank, and the good sense in your purchasing the estate," concluded Jane.

"Not at all!" exclaimed Bingley. "He then asked me if I objected to revealing the asking price for the property; and when I disclosed it, he declared it to be exorbitant, and said I should be a fool to pay so much!"

"But, Charles, did not your agent in London advise you that it was in every way a most reasonable price for such a property?"

"Indeed he did, Jane, and when I apprised Darcy of this, he began disparaging my agent, and implying that he could not be trusted. Although, when pressed, Darcy admitted that he had heard not a single bad report of the man."

Elizabeth had spoken hardly a word since Bingley's return, for she had immediately surmised the cause of Mr. Darcy's bizarre behaviour. Bingley, she guessed, must have revealed that it was the intention of Jane and himself that Willowbank should also be her home. She would not have believed it possible, but it now seemed inescapable that Mr. Darcy's loathing of her, and his desire to avoid her society, had acted as a stronger inducement to him than the wish to have his dearest friend settled so conveniently nearby. At length, she managed to catch her sister's eye, and communicate something of her understanding, in consequence of which Jane ceased questioning her husband concerning Darcy's behaviour and attempted, rather, to mollify him.

"Notwithstanding Darcy's counsel to the contrary, I am determined to proceed with the purchase," said Bingley with uncustomary resolve.

Jane smiled, nodding her concurrence.

"Unless Darcy turns up something of an irregular nature in the Shire records at Chester – although I think it highly unlikely he will find anything; for my agent will have undertaken due diligence of all the documents before recommending the property to me. Why Darcy felt it incumbent upon himself to immediately ride off to Chester to pursue the matter – in spite of all my protests – I have not the slightest idea," said Bingley, shaking his head.

"My brother is gone to Chester?" asked Miss Darcy, all astonished.

"Yes. I am at a total loss to understand the urgency that compelled him to believe he must ride there straight away. He will be lucky to arrive before nightfall – in all likelihood your brother will be obliged to stop at an inn for the night, some distance short of his destination – and in any case, he will not be able to view the Shire records until tomorrow. I suggested that if he must go to Chester that he return to Pemberley with me and leave it for the morrow; for if he were to leave early, he could be back in time for the meal. But despite all my entreaties, when we arrived at the Macclesfield-Buxton road, he turned west towards Chester, leaving me to return alone."

* * *

As Elizabeth was readying herself for bed, Jane came to her room. "You were right, Lizzy. I asked Charles if Mr. Darcy was aware of our intention that Willowbank should be your home also. He confessed that he confided it to Mr. Darcy as they were returning from their tour of the park."

"Which coincides with Mr. Darcy's sudden change of tack, from praising Willowbank to concocting all manner of dubious reason for its unsuitability," said Elizabeth.

"Yes, exactly," said Jane. "Bingley is upset at his friend's erratic and incomprehensible behaviour; it is so entirely out of character! He has not the least suspicion that it is on your account, Lizzy, and as it is your wish that he should not know, I have said nothing."

"Thank you, Jane," said Elizabeth, taking her sister's hand.

"My poor Lizzy, how can you bear all of this? How awful it will be for you when Mr. Darcy returns to Pemberley tomorrow. Perhaps I can convince Bingley that we should leave in a day or two. I can tell him that I am anxious to return to town so that the purchase of Willowbank may be completed expeditiously. Georgiana will not be offended, I am certain, for she will comprehend our eagerness to conclude the transaction. And as for Mr. Darcy – he will be greatly relieved, I am sure."

"Mr. Darcy will not return tomorrow, Jane. He will not return so long as I remain at Pemberley."

"What? Stay away from his own home, Lizzy? Surely not!"

"Oh yes, Jane, I am quite certain of it. Mr. Darcy fled to Willowbank within minutes of our arrival this morning, and then concocted that absurd story about there being something untoward regarding the property in the Shire records, which required him to immediately ride off to Chester, rather than returning with Bingley. He will, of course, find nothing in the Shire records, you may be sure. But what he will find is an excuse of some kind or other, for not returning to Pemberley."

* * *

Elizabeth was entirely correct. A message arrived the following evening from Darcy, informing Bingley that, notwithstanding the fact that the Shire records appeared to be in order, he continued to be of the opinion that Willowbank was entirely unsuitable, and that the purchase price was unreasonable. He recommended, most forcefully, that his friend look elsewhere. Darcy regretted that he was unable to return to Pemberley immediately as matters of some urgency relating to his duties as a magistrate had arisen in Derby, to whence he had ridden directly from Chester; they would very likely keep him there until after the assizes the following week. Included with the message was a list for his valet of items he wished him to bring to his master at his rooms in Derby.

Bingley and Miss Darcy were utterly stunned that he would absent himself when he had guests in the house. It was a gross breach of propriety on what appeared to be a very thin pretext indeed.

* * *

The following morning whilst they were taking tea with her, Georgiana attempted to apologise to Jane and Elizabeth for her brother's ungracious behaviour. "Please do not take it as an indication of any lack of esteem for either of you, I beg. I know my brother has the very highest regard for you both; and for Mr. Bingley, too, of course."

Jane and Elizabeth did their best to reassure Georgiana that neither they, nor Mr. Bingley, were in the least bit offended.

"My brother has sometimes appeared troubled of late," confided Georgiana, uneasily. "It began, I believe, in the winter. I have not the least idea what it can be about. I only know that he has many heavy responsibilities, and much to oversee regarding this estate and other lands in his possession. I fear that there must be difficulties of some kind which weigh heavily upon his mind, in consequence of which, he behaves quite out-of-character at times."

Elizabeth could see how troubled and concerned Georgiana was for her brother, but, nevertheless, felt unable to speak of what she knew to be the reason for his recent bizarre behaviour. Apart from the embarrassment it would cause them both, she could provide no plausible explanation as to the reason which lay behind it.

"Be patient, Georgiana," counselled Jane, "and wait. Whatever is causing your brother's strange behaviour will, in time, pass, and everything will again return to normal."

On account of Georgiana's low spirits, Jane and Elizabeth resolved to stay on at Pemberley for a week, at least, but Charles was somewhat at a loose end without a shooting or fishing companion. He was annoyed at Darcy's inexcusable absence, and eager to get to London to conclude the business of the purchase. So at the end of a week they departed, after bidding their fond farewells to Georgiana, and speaking of their hopes of seeing much of each other when they took up residence at Willowbank.

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	5. Confined and Confounded at Longbourn

_**Chapter 5 ~ Confined and Confounded at Longbourn**_

The journey from Derbyshire to London took them through Hertfordshire, where Elizabeth would remain until the purchase of Willowbank was completed, and Jane and Bingley established there. Elizabeth was resigned to spending several months at Longbourn. With the loss of Jane and Mary from the parlour, the conversation had become even sillier than usual.

When Mrs. Bennet was not congratulating herself on one or other of her fine sons-in-law, she was earnestly engaged in speculating with Kitty on how a suitable husband might be found for her. Elizabeth had hinted that she had met a number of eligible young gentlemen in London, which was sufficient to unleash her dear mamma's imagination and convince her that a proposal from one or other of them must be imminent. She had only to mention that she had danced twice with Lord Edward Netherby at the ball of his mother, Lady Netherby, who had subsequently invited her to dine, for Mrs. Bennet to believe that they were all but engaged.

Elizabeth did nothing to disabuse her mother of these fantasies, but simply smiled demurely and was greatly pleased to be spared her mother's matrimonial campaigning on her behalf. It could thus be entirely devoted to her sister, Kitty, who took as much pleasure in the enterprise as her mother.

Mr. Bennet, as was his wont, spent much of his time sequestered in his library. But at mealtimes, when the company of the ladies could not be avoided, he was very happy to have at least one companion at the table with whom a sensible conversation was possible. Indeed, he enjoyed Elizabeth's company so much that he often invited her to join him in his library, especially when he was attempting to fathom something or other of a perplexing nature.

* * *

One evening, Mr. Bennet called Elizabeth to the library, for he had just that day received some surprising news from London. "My brother Gardiner writes that he has recently learned that George Wickham resigned his commission some months ago, and that he and Lydia have left Newcastle and are presently domiciled in London."

"Good heavens," said Elizabeth. "Has Lydia made no mention of it in her letters?"

"She hardly bothers to write. I believe it is several months at least, since either your mother or Kitty received a letter from her."

"But what can they be living on, Father?" asked Elizabeth.

"That is the very question which is perplexing me, Lizzy. London is the most expensive place in all of England that they could have chosen to live," replied Mr. Bennet, becoming silent for some time before continuing, "I wrote to your uncle when you informed me that it was Mr. Darcy, and not he, who paid everything to bring about Lydia's marriage. Since you counselled me to neither thank nor offer to repay Mr. Darcy, I have done neither; however, I wished to know exactly how much he had laid out, and your uncle was good enough to furnish me with the details. It was, in fact, well above ten thousand pounds; most of it went towards clearing Wickham's debts of honour. There was also the purchase of his commission in the regulars, and some five hundred pounds in addition, that Wickham demanded as the price for marrying Lydia."

"So much?" asked Elizabeth, astonished.

"Yes," replied her father. "I have little doubt that he will have long ago gambled away the five hundred pounds. I imagine his reason for leaving the regulars was that he might cash up his commission to pay off gambling debts."

"But how can they live – most especially in London – without money?" asked Elizabeth.

"I have not the least idea," replied Mr. Bennet with a sigh. "Lydia receives one hundred pounds a year from me. I understand that Mr. Darcy settled one thousand pounds upon her; but neither she, nor Wickham, can touch it; they have only the benefit of the interest, which gives them a total of one hundred and forty pounds per annum – hardly enough for a gentleman and lady to live upon in London. Yet from what your uncle has been able to ascertain, they are living in moderate comfort in lodgings. Wickham has applied to neither Mr. Gardiner nor myself for funds. Lizzy, do you think it possible that Darcy has given him more money?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I think it exceedingly unlikely, Father, given his strong disapprobation of George Wickham, and considering everything he has already done for them."

"Yes, I agree, it is indeed unlikely. Whatever responsibility for Lydia's elopement Mr. Darcy has imputed to himself, it must have been assuaged many times over by his most commendable generosity. He gave Wickham a golden opportunity, one which he did not deserve, to make his way in the world as a gentleman. If Wickham threw it away, then Mr. Darcy can in no way hold himself responsible – or feel in the least bit bound to give him so much as another penny."

"Could Wickham perhaps have found some form of occupation in London, do you think?"

Mr. Bennet snorted. "That would seem most unlikely. He is an idler who fancies himself far too much the gentleman to earn his living; and in any case, he has not the required education."

"Perhaps Wickham's luck at the gaming table has turned. Is it possible that they might be living off his winnings?"

Mr. Bennet shook his head. "No doubt sometimes he must win; but Wickham is not clever enough to be a successful gambler. He is, I suspect, the sort of man who when he wins, will continue to gamble until he loses, and has nothing left."

* * *

Towards the end of summer, entirely without warning, Lydia arrived at Longbourn for her confinement. It came as a great surprise to everyone, as she had not mentioned in her infrequent letters that she was with child. Wickham's company had done nothing to improve her conduct – quite the contrary. She was even louder and less restrained than ever, and was given to taking generous amounts of wine at the dinner table, causing her to become even rowdier. Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth soon gave up their attempts at admonishment, for she would listen to no one. Her mother, as always, indulged her, and could find no fault in her favourite – it was just youthful high spirits; and Kitty found it amusing.

One afternoon, after the meal, as she was enjoying her customary walk in the garden, Elizabeth encountered Lydia, reclining indecorously beneath a large tree. On account of the wine she had consumed with the meal, she was sleepy, and had begun to doze off in the sunshine. However, on spying Elizabeth, she roused herself and began complaining about how boring it was to be back at Longbourn, and how much happier she had been in London.

"How I do wish Wickham had not insisted upon my returning to Longbourn for my confinement. There is nothing to do here, there are no amusements, and there is nowhere to go!"

"But Lydia, that is the nature of a confinement; one does not go out and seek amusements; one is _confined_ at home."

"Well, if you say so," retorted Lydia, irritably. "Still, I cannot see why it was necessary to begin my confinement quite so soon; the baby is not due for another month at least. I think it most unfair that I should have to remain here in Hertfordshire, while Wickham, no doubt, is enjoying himself in town."

"Lydia," asked Elizabeth, "has Wickham found some occupation in London?"

Lydia laughed. "How droll you are, Lizzy; my Wickham would be far too proud for that."

"But then what do you live upon? However can you afford to remain in London?"

Lydia smiled conspiratorially. "I am not supposed to know about it, because Wickham carries on the business behind closed doors, and contrives to send me out on some errand or other when she is coming."

"When who is coming?" asked Elizabeth, becoming curious.

"Caroline Bingley."

Elizabeth was stunned. "What? Caroline Bingley – the sister of Charles Bingley? What can she possibly have to do with your husband? Are you certain, Lydia?"

"Oh yes," said Lydia with a cunning smile. "The first time she came, he sent me out to make a purchase from the wine merchant; but I became suspicious because we still had several bottles left, and so I watched from the shop window across the street and saw her arrive and then later leave. It was most definitely Caroline Bingley!"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Elizabeth, not knowing what it might possibly mean.

"She comes every few months, and afterwards Wickham has money. He pays Mrs. Younge the rent that is owed to her, and we dine well and enjoy all manner of amusements – until the money runs out."

"But… why would Caroline Bingley give Wickham money?"

"As you may imagine, Lizzy, I was most curious myself; but I could not ask him, as I was not supposed to even know of her visits. So on one occasion when Wickham sent me away, I hid myself instead, and after she arrived, I listened at the parlour door."

Elizabeth was shocked. Shocked at the clandestine meetings between Wickham and Miss Bingley, and shocked at Lydia's unprincipled behaviour in spying upon them. She knew that she should walk away and refuse to hear any more of the affair. But she could not; her curiosity was by this time so aroused that she simply could not do what she knew honour and propriety demanded.

"They argue," revealed Lydia. "Wickham is always demanding more money than she will give him. Once, I heard him threatening to reveal something about a letter. She kept saying that Wickham agreed to the amount in Newcastle, and that he must stand by the agreement. I could not hear everything, because sometimes they spoke softly, but I am certain that I heard Wickham mention Mr. Darcy's name – and yours."

Elizabeth gasped. It was impossible to weave all the extraordinary pieces of Lydia's revelation together into a comprehensible whole. Elizabeth had no more idea of what it could be about than her sister. But somehow, deep within, the conviction was beginning to form that this bizarre business was in some way related to Mr. Darcy's behaviour towards herself.

_**Please leave a comment...**_


	6. Willowbank

_**Chapter 6 ~ Willowbank**_

Bingley and Jane were settled at Willowbank by the end of the summer, and Elizabeth was delighted to join them there. Lydia's child was not yet born, but as the birth approached, her sister became increasingly bad-tempered and demanding. Elizabeth found herself admiring how well her mother endured it, and realised that when the time came, with her own experience of bearing five children, she would manage everything splendidly. Parting with her father was the most difficult part of it, but Elizabeth was greatly looking forward to living at Willowbank with dear Jane and Charles. She would make the two day journey by post, and was excited at the prospect of the adventure. Elizabeth smiled at the thought of what Lady Catherine de Bourgh would have to say on the subject of her making such a journey alone.

* * *

Willowbank was lovely in the late summer – although Elizabeth suspected that she would find it agreeable in every season. Her apartment was charming, and she felt immediately at home. She could very happily live the rest of her life here; and indeed believed that, very probably, she would.

Elizabeth was curious to know how Mr. Darcy had behaved towards Jane and Bingley since their arrival at Willowbank, several weeks earlier. On the morning following her arrival, as they were taking tea in the delightful morning room with a lovely view over the river, she questioned Jane about it.

"Everything has returned entirely to normal between Charles and Mr. Darcy," reported Jane, happily. "Mr. Darcy even conceded, after further investigation, that the price Charles paid for the property was entirely reasonable. I believe he is conscious that his behaviour towards us when we visited Pemberley was wanting, and that he means to make amends and wishes Charles to understand that he is as dear a friend to him as ever he was. Charles has such a forgiving nature that the whole matter is now completely forgotten.

"Mr. Darcy has been exceedingly kind and generous in providing us with all manner of provisions from his larders and orchards while we are settling in. Miss Darcy waits on me often, and we dine with them twice a week, at least. We are just now at the point of being able to return the hospitality, for they will dine with us, for the first time, today."

"Mr. Darcy cannot know of my arrival," said Elizabeth, "or he would not have accepted the invitation."

"No, he does not yet know of your arrival, Lizzy, but he is well aware that you are to live with us. Georgiana speaks of it often, and enthusiastically, and she has made mention of it more than once in the company of the gentlemen. Whatever are his opinions and feelings concerning you, Lizzy, that caused him to behave in so eccentric a manner at Pemberley in June, I do believe that henceforth he means to conduct himself entirely civilly in your presence so that we can all enjoy each other's society without the least bit of awkwardness."

"I do hope you are correct. One would expect nothing less of a man of Mr. Darcy's breeding and character," replied Elizabeth hopefully. "If our father was able to sit at the same table and conduct himself in a gentlemanly fashion with George Wickham, after all his history with Lydia, then Mr. Darcy should be able to endure my company with stoic good grace."

* * *

In the event, if Darcy had intended to behave with stoic good grace, he failed utterly. He was completely discomposed from the first moment he set eyes upon Elizabeth. He managed the curtest of greetings, after which he refused to allow his eyes to travel in her direction. Against her better judgement, Elizabeth attempted to engage him in conversation. "Have you had the opportunity yet, Mr. Darcy, of fishing in Mr. Bingley's river?" she enquired.

A muffled grunt, sounding somewhat like a "Yes," was all the gentleman could manage, as he stared hard at the floor.

Realising that the meal was doomed to be a disaster, and greatly embarrassing for the whole party, Elizabeth drew her sister aside and whispered, "I am sorry, Jane; but this is unbearable. Please make my apologies – a sudden headache, tell them." With that, she turned and quickly left the room.

* * *

Elizabeth was seated in her apartment, picking over the food that Jane had sent up for her; but she had no appetite. Her spirits were even lower than they had been at Jane's wedding, when she had only the loss of Darcy's affection and the pain of his cruel and cold behaviour to endure. Now she had, in addition, the fear that her presence at Willowbank might ruin two precious friendships: that of Bingley and Darcy, and of Georgiana and Jane. The intimacy which seemed destined to flourish between Pemberley and Willowbank, to the mutual benefit and delight of them all would be destroyed by her presence.

Elizabeth's mind went round and round in the same hopeless, painful circle; she could find no way out. She must leave Cheshire and return to Longbourn; there was nothing else to be done. Her thoughts were thus engaged when Jane knocked at her door, her guests having just departed. Upon entering, she immediately rushed to her sister and embraced her.

"I am sorry, Jane, but I could not have borne it."

"Do not blame yourself, Lizzy; you have done nothing to be sorry for. I watched Mr. Darcy closely from the moment he entered the room, and I saw how it would have been had you stayed. Though he remained sombre, he regained his composure, somewhat, after you left, and behaved tolerably well. I do not believe that Charles or Georgiana appreciated the embarrassment it would have been for us all had you not excused yourself. Whatever can be the matter with the man? I thought I knew him, but he is become someone else – a stranger whom I cannot comprehend in the least."

"Jane, there is something I must tell you, which I learned from Lydia while I was in Longbourn. I have been hesitating to speak on the matter as it involves information obtained by spying upon others and eavesdropping on their conversations. I know that as a matter of honour, you would prefer not to receive information obtained in such a manner; however, in this case, I believe you must, for I suspect that it bears some connection with Mr. Darcy's extraordinary behaviour towards myself."

"If that is your opinion, Lizzy, I will hear it."

Elizabeth proceeded to recount everything that Lydia had told her.

Jane was stunned into silence. After several minutes, she finally exclaimed, "Caroline Bingley pay money to George Wickham? I cannot fathom a reason. And Lydia said that mention was made of your name – and of Mr. Darcy's – in relation to what?"

"She did not hear; only that Wickham was threatening to reveal something about a letter. I have thought about this a great deal, since first I heard it. My surmise is that Mr. Darcy has received a letter containing slanderous lies about me. Caroline Bingley is involved in the deceit, and Wickham has learned of it, and is threatening to reveal its spurious nature to Mr. Darcy. Caroline Bingley is obliged to provide money to keep him quiet.

"The notion that Mr. Darcy is in receipt of a report of a slanderous nature concerning myself is, admittedly, pure conjecture, and is not directly supported by anything Lydia has recounted. I must continue to remind myself of this fact, and endeavour not to allow myself to believe it unquestioningly, in the absence of further evidence."

"Yet it perfectly explains all the events witnessed by Lydia," mused Jane, "…and Mr. Darcy's recent behaviour."

"Not just his recent behaviour – but all of it, since the time of your betrothal to Bingley, when Darcy failed to return into Hertfordshire. I was hoping at the time, as you know, that he would come to pay me his addresses."

"So you believe that Caroline deliberately set about blackening your name in Mr. Darcy's eyes – to prevent him from wishing to marry you?"

"Exactly! It has been evident to me from almost the first moment I saw Miss Bingley in Mr. Darcy's company that it was her fondest desire to become his wife."

"Yes, it is quite unmistakable," replied Jane before falling silent again. It seemed almost incomprehensible to her that such skulduggery, which resembled the plot of some fanciful novel, could be happening amongst her nearest acquaintances. Yet, try as she might, she was unable to find an innocent explanation for Lydia's astonishing disclosure.

"I cannot imagine how Miss Bingley is able to pay Wickham so much money," mused Jane. "Enough, it would seem, for him and Lydia to live upon. Caroline is a lady of fashion with expensive tastes. Her extravagant purchases often exceed her allowance, and it is not at all unusual for her to apply to Charles for an advance on her quarterly remittance."

"Is it possible that Miss Bingley is obtaining the money from her brother?" asked Elizabeth.

Jane shook her head. "No; Charles would certainly have mentioned it to me. And most assuredly, he would not have given his sister such sums without an explanation of their intended use; and had he any inkling that it was for bribery, he would unquestionably have refused her. No, I do not believe that the money can be coming from Charles, but if you wish to be certain, I shall ask him."

"No, Jane, I would rather you did not. I do not wish to involve your husband in any of this."

"Are you quite certain, Lizzy? After witnessing Mr. Darcy's behaviour today, I am convinced that Charles must very soon become aware of his friend's inexplicable bitterness towards you – it cannot be concealed for very long. If you would but allow me to acquaint him with all the details, he might be able to get to the bottom of it. He could question his sister about the money and also demand an explanation from Mr. Darcy for his bizarre behaviour towards you; and he could inquire about the contents of this mysterious letter. Do you not see, Lizzy, it might provide you with the opportunity of refuting whatever lies have been laid at your door. You might even regain Mr. Darcy's esteem," she added softy.

"No, Jane, I forbid it. I would rather give up Willowbank entirely and return to Longbourn. Indeed, I fear I must; for I do not wish to be the instrument of destroying the intimacy and friendship that exists between Willowbank and Pemberley."

"But it is Darcy, not you, who is that instrument," exclaimed Jane. "You must not blame yourself, Lizzy."

"I do not blame myself. I know that I have done nothing to regret or be ashamed of. But still, I cannot remain here, knowing that it will destroy Bingley's most important friendship, and also that which has blossomed between Miss Darcy and yourself. And can you not see how terribly awkward it would be for us all?"

"Elizabeth, you are our sister. Your place is here with us – you must stay. If a choice is to be made, then family comes before friendship. Still, I am hopeful that such a choice will not be necessary. Promise me you will not speak again of leaving Willowbank, for it grieves me deeply."

Elizabeth promised, and Jane agreed not to reveal what she knew to her husband; although it seemed to her inevitable that Charles must very soon realise that his friend wished to avoid the company of her sister.

* * *

No further dinner invitations were received from Pemberley; Miss Darcy did not come to wait upon the ladies at Willowbank, and politely declined Jane's invitation for her and her brother to dine with them. In her note, she expressed her regret that on account of her brother being presently indisposed, he wished to remain quietly at Pemberley, and for her to do likewise. In deference to his wishes, she found herself unable to receive visitors.

It was all very much as Elizabeth had expected.

Charles Bingley was ignorant of the communications between the ladies, and continued his excursions to Pemberley to shoot and fish with his friend, who he found to be somewhat less talkative than usual. Darcy frequently appeared to be preoccupied in sombre thought, and always found some excuse for not coming to shoot and fish at Willowbank. Bingley commented at the table one day upon the lack of visits amongst the ladies, and that it seemed a great while, indeed, since they had dined at Pemberley or had Darcy and his sister to dine with them.

In spite of her promise to Jane, Elizabeth was again considering departing Cheshire. She could not bear to feel herself the cause of the growing estrangement between Pemberley and Willowbank. Though it would be a terrible wrench to give up the company of her most beloved sister and the beauty of Willowbank, she could think of no other course. Elizabeth wrestled for many days with the dilemma, before, at length, taking up her pen and writing.

'_Dear Miss Darcy,_

_It is with great regret that I observe the cessation of intercourse between Pemberley and Willowbank, which has coincided with my arrival in Cheshire. If you are not privy to the reason, then you are very likely puzzled as to why this has come about. Allow me to enlighten you: It is on account of your brother's earnest desire to avoid all contact with me._

_As you may know, my sister and her husband have invited me to make my home with them at Willowbank. It grieves me to think that my presence here may be the means of ruining the deep friendship that has long existed between Mr. Bingley and your brother. Furthermore, the friendship between my sister and yourself seems, likewise, certain to suffer._

_I therefore propose that you resume your invitations to Mr. Bingley and my sister to visit and dine at Pemberley. It will be understood that such invitations do not include myself._

_It will also be understood that Mr. Darcy does not wish for the hospitality to be returned, and no such invitations will be given. I hope that my sister will once again be welcome to wait upon you at Pemberley. If you are unable to return such visits, the reason will be readily understood._

_Yours, etc,_

_Elizabeth Bennet'_

Elizabeth did not show the letter to Jane, for fear that she would object to her self-imposed withdrawal from all intercourse with Pemberley. However, after it was sent, she apprised Jane of its contents. Jane was not happy, but she understood and respected her sister's motives. "How shall I explain such an unusual arrangement to Charles?" she asked.

"Tell him that Mr. Darcy and I have had a falling out, and that we neither of us wish to be in the company of the other; and that the arrangement suits us both. Give him to understand that I would feel most uncomfortable in discussing the particulars. Say only that I would prefer not to speak of Mr. Darcy with him, and that it is my express wish that he should not enter into discussion with Mr. Darcy concerning myself."

* * *

The following day, a message arrived from Miss Darcy – not for Elizabeth but for Jane. It was a brief note requesting the pleasure of a visit.

When Jane entered the morning room at Pemberley, Georgiana, who was sitting alone, rose to greet her guest. She appeared embarrassed and discomposed. Jane embraced her and smiled warmly. "It is so good to see you again, my dear Georgiana."

"And I you, dear Jane."

Once they were seated, Georgiana took a deep breath. It appeared that there was something she wished to say. Jane remained silent and waited.

"I am so unhappy and confused, it is hard to know what I must do. My brother has been acting most peculiarly of late. He has become withdrawn and unsociable. I was beginning to fear he must be suffering some manner of nervous disorder. Then yesterday, I received a letter from your sister. She wrote something most shocking – about my brother – do you – have you –?" she paused, not knowing how to continue.

"I did not see the letter; however Elizabeth revealed its contents to me after it had been sent."

"Oh, then you must know. I was so astonished at what Miss Bennet wrote that I immediately asked my brother if it was true that he wished to avoid your sister. He asked me from whence came such a notion, and I told him that Miss Bennet had written of it in a letter. My brother demanded to see the letter, and though I thought it wrong of him, I was obliged to obey."

"Yes, of course, my dear, you had no choice in the matter; you did what was right," Jane reassured her.

"He read the letter and simply said, 'What Miss Bennet proposes is entirely acceptable to me – with the proviso that you do not visit Willowbank.'"

"'Then it is true,' said I, 'you do indeed wish to avoid contact with Miss Bennet?' 'Yes, it is perfectly true,' he said with a sternness that frightened me, 'and I likewise wish you to avoid all contact with her.' I gathered up my courage, for I knew he wished not to discuss the matter further, and asked him the reason for so extraordinary a resolve."

Georgiana paused; she was too embarrassed and upset to continue.

"And did your brother furnish a reason?" inquired Jane gently.

"He did. My brother was not explicit; but he implied that your sister is not a respectable lady. I know my brother would never lie to me, yet I cannot believe it. Now I do not know what to think," said Georgiana miserably.

"Georgiana, I can assure you that my sister is every bit as respectable as you and I – or any lady in England. Your brother has been imposed upon by those who would wish him to think ill of my sister. Please do not ask me the particulars, for I know but a small part of it, and I am not authorised to reveal anything further."

"How shocking!" exclaimed Georgiana. "How awful it must be for your poor sister to know that lies are being spoken about her – and believed! I must go at once to my brother and inform him that these reports are not true!"

"Please, Georgiana, speak not a word of this to anyone! My sister wished for you to know of it, for she could not bear to have you think ill of her. She explicitly requested that this information be given to you in the strictest confidence."

"Why? Why cannot I tell my brother that whatever he has heard against your sister is all falsehood and slander?"

"He would not believe you, and would very likely become angry with both you and I; he might even forbid you to receive me at Pemberley."

"Then I shall do as you say, and respect your confidences. Please tell Elizabeth that I unreservedly believe in her goodness. Tell her, also, how unhappy I am at being presently unable to enjoy her society. I was so looking forward to deepening the intimacy which began between us during your short stay here, at Pemberley, two months ago."

"It shall be my great pleasure," replied Jane, "and I am certain it will please her."

"Now I wish to tell you something in confidence, Jane. A year ago, when Elizabeth was travelling in Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle, she visited Pemberley, and my brother was most anxious to introduce us. I had never seen him so animated by a young lady and, well… I began to believe him to be very much in love with your sister; and, I confess, I liked her so well that I hoped very much that she would very soon become my sister, also. Even when some urgent business unexpectedly took her from Derbyshire, I did not despair, for I had observed the strength of my brother's feelings, and felt confident that they must be one day united. When nothing came of it after many months, I was surprised – and disappointed; but now it seems, there is an explanation."

Jane sighed sadly, but said nothing.

"Someone has deliberately set out to deceive my brother concerning Elizabeth's character, and consequently, he has decided against her. That was most certainly their intention," said Miss Darcy, thinking aloud. "But why would anyone wish to prevent them from marrying?" She pondered the question a few moments, before her eyes suddenly opened wide. "Because it is a lady who wishes to marry him herself – and it is not very difficult to guess who!"

"Georgiana, please!" exclaimed Jane, holding up her hand. "I do not wish to speak further on the subject. You have a very quick mind; but let me counsel you to always take care not to believe things without proof; and more particularly, not to speak of your speculations. You know not the damage you may do to the reputation of another!"

"I am sorry, Jane, you are quite correct. It would indeed be most improper. But on another subject," continued Georgiana, smiling mischievously, "my brother has asked me to send an invitation to your husband's sister, Miss Bingley, to be my guest at Pemberley."

"Oh," said Jane, uncomfortably. She should by now have invited Caroline to stay with them at Willowbank; but had refrained, even before the recent revelations from Lydia, on account of Elizabeth and Miss Bingley's mutual dislike of each other. In any event, Caroline would never have accepted the invitation while Elizabeth was at Willowbank. Jane was fastidious in according Miss Bingley everything that was her due as her husband's sister; nevertheless, she found her insincerity something of a trial, and could not feel unhappy that she would stay at Pemberley rather than with them.


	7. An Engagement is Announced

_**Chapter 7 ~ An Engagement is Announced**_

Intercourse between Willowbank and Pemberley resumed, albeit on the somewhat unorthodox basis proposed in Elizabeth's letter. Charles Bingley, at the insistence of his wife, made no allusion to the peculiarity of the arrangements, nor did Miss Darcy, nor Mr. Darcy. When they dined at Pemberley, it seemed to Jane that Elizabeth's unmentionable absence had an intangible presence. On occasion, the party was larger, and included one or more of the neighbouring families; and though they must certainly know that Mrs. Bingley had a younger sister living with them at Willowbank, her name never intruded upon their conversation. The taboo regarding Miss Bennet had circulated quickly throughout the neighbourhood, and her ostracism at Pemberley ensured her exclusion from all local society.

There was a brief interruption to the resumption of relations with Pemberley when news arrived from Kent that Lady Catherine de Bourgh was gravely ill. By the time that Mr. Darcy and his sister had arrived at Rosings Park, the great lady had breathed her last. But even great tragedies can sometimes be the harbinger of good fortune; which, in this instance, was that Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanied his cousins into Derbyshire after Lady Catherine had been reunited at long last in the family crypt with Sir Lewis.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was a most welcome addition to the Pemberley dining table. Georgiana was delighted that her cousin intended to remain some time with them in Derbyshire, for he always treated her with the utmost kindness and affection. Jane could not but notice that Georgiana's conversation with her cousin was far more confident and animated than was generally the case with her brother.

"And how, pray tell, is your sister?" inquired the colonel of Jane, at their first meeting. "I understand that Miss Bennet is now residing at Willowbank. I was greatly anticipating the pleasure of her charming company at our little party today, and must declare myself vastly disappointed not to see her."

Jane had been conjecturing as to whether Mr. Darcy would have apprised his cousin of his base opinion regarding Elizabeth – or at least of his unwillingness to be in her society – and the peculiar arrangements that had developed in consequence. She had been dreading just such an enquiry which must inevitably arise if he had not done so, and awkwardly alluded to her sister being a little unwell at the present time.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, noting the embarrassment of the whole company, and the red faces of the ladies – and even Darcy – was far too much the gentleman to persevere; and simply enquired if he might call upon Miss Bennet the following day; a request to which Jane readily acceded.

* * *

Colonel Fitzwilliam waited until the guests had departed and he was alone with Darcy before asking the question which had been with him since the meal. "Darcy, what on earth is going on? What is the real reason for Miss Bennet's absence from Pemberley today?"

Darcy drained his port, refilled his glass, and took a long draught of it. Staring fixedly at his glass rather than meeting his cousin's gaze, he said. "I am in receipt of intelligence that is greatly to Miss Bennet's disadvantage; in consequence of which I will not receive her at Pemberley or admit her into my society."

"Good God, man! I cannot imagine that any possible reason could exist for thinking ill of the lady. What is your information?"

"I refuse to disclose it."

"Are you bound by honour, or an oath, to secrecy?"

"No; I simply choose not to reveal it. As a consequence of the intelligence I have received, all regard for that lady's reputation has long been lost in my eyes – yet I do not wish for others to know of it."

"Are you absolutely certain of the veracity of your information, Darcy?"

"Most regrettably, I am. It has received corroboration from more than one independent source," said Darcy. Then finally looking his cousin directly in the eye, he said sombrely, "I wish to God that this were just a nightmare from which I could awaken, and discover it to be nothing but a dark delusion with not an ounce of truth to it." He gave a long, sorrowful sigh. "I am a creature of reason, Fitzwilliam, and I cannot ignore what reason tells me must be the truth, no matter how much I would wish it to be otherwise. Please do not speak of Miss Bennet with Georgiana. She is as ignorant as you of the information; she knows only that I refuse to have any contact with the lady. I have forbidden my sister to call upon her, and I most strongly advise you to likewise eschew her society."

Colonel Fitzwilliam sipped his port thoughtfully for some time before replying, "Notwithstanding my admiration for your intellect, your considerable powers of cogitation, your experience as a magistrate in forming a reasoned opinion based upon the evidence to hand, and above all, of your fair-mindedness, I believe that your conclusion, in this instance, cannot be correct."

"How can you say such a thing, Fitzwilliam? You are entirely ignorant of the evidence upon which my judgement is formed."

"True, I know nothing of your evidence, but I flatter myself in believing that I know something of Miss Bennet's character, which I must tell you, I find to be in every respect unimpeachable. Unless some compelling evidence to the contrary is laid before me, I shall continue to judge Miss Bennet upon her own words and deeds, without the least cognisance of the mysterious information which appears to hold you in its thrall."

* * *

Colonel Fitzwilliam became a regular visitor to Willowbank. He often rode over to call upon the ladies of a morning; he was pleased to fish with Bingley in the river or to shoot with him in the woods; and he happily accepted Mrs. Bingley's frequent invitations to dine with them. He was particularly fond of taking a turn in the garden if Miss Bennet could be persuaded to join him.

"Elizabeth," said her sister one morning while they were taking tea, "I do believe that Colonel Fitzwilliam is becoming rather fond of your company. I do not imagine that he makes the long journey from Pemberley so often on account of either Bingley or myself – or the fish in the river or the game in the woods," she said with a teasing smile.

"He tells me that he greatly enjoys a good ride, and that with his excellent mount, he is able to make the journey in under an hour," replied Elizabeth innocently.

"Has he ever spoken to you upon the subject of his cousin's exclusion of you from his society?"

"Once only – and briefly. He gave me to understand that he had not the least idea of – nor interest in learning – the reasons for his cousin's bizarre behaviour, and he begged me to believe that his regard for me had not suffered a jot on that account. On the contrary, he intimated that if his regard for me had altered, it had increased, rather than diminished."

Jane smiled. "I think he must be falling in love with you, Lizzy! I will admit that I have suspected it for a little while now."

"Oh, I hope not," replied Elizabeth. "I like him very much, and always find his company delightful. He is a well-bred man, with pleasant, well-informed conversation and delightful manners – but I do not believe I could ever come to love him."

"Well, you must know your own heart, Lizzy, and certainly, you know what it is to love." Regretting her allusion to Mr. Darcy, Jane quickly turned the conversation back to his cousin. "Then you must be careful, Lizzy, not to allow the colonel to hope."

"Jane, I do not believe that he is falling in love with me; and furthermore, I have reason to believe that he guards his heart most carefully, and will not lose it where there is no hope."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"He made a singular remark to me one day when we were walking together in the woods at Rosings Park, which I took to be a warning. It was something about younger sons, such as himself, not being able to marry where they liked. He spoke, regretfully, I thought, of the necessity of marrying a woman of fortune."

"So you think he was warning you not to think of him as a marriage prospect?"

"Precisely. He knew I had no money, and wishing to enjoy my company, he felt it incumbent upon himself to ensure that I did not misunderstand his intentions. I thought it most honourable of him; and I do not believe that anything has changed in that regard."

* * *

The next visitor expected at Pemberley was Caroline Bingley, and news of her arrival was brought by Colonel Fitzwilliam when he came one morning to fish with Charles. They were engaged to dine at Pemberley the following day, and Jane was curious to see how Caroline would conduct herself. She behaved with all her usual insincere charm and declared herself delighted to see Charles and herself – although she reserved the greater part of her flattery for Mr. Darcy and his sister. It was evident to Jane that Caroline was intent upon courting the good opinion of them both.

When the ladies withdrew after the meal, Jane said to Caroline, beside whom she was seated in the drawing room, "Your brother, Charles, was surprised to learn that you have been several days at Pemberley, and have not yet paid a visit to Willowbank. He is eager, as you may imagine, for you to see the fine estate he has purchased."

"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Bingley, making so severe a frown as to alarm Georgiana, who fled to the pianoforte, where she occupied herself in looking studiously through the sheets of music as if she were having difficulty in deciding what to play when the gentlemen joined them.

"Please come and wait on me at Willowbank, any morning," said Jane politely, uncertain of how her invitation would be received. "Colonel Fitzwilliam is engaged to dine with us in two days time. Charles and I would be delighted if you would join us also."

Miss Bingley rose from the sofa and began pacing agitatedly back and forth, further alarming Georgiana, who opened the instrument and began playing a soothing French lullaby.

Returning to where Jane was seated, Miss Bingley glared down at her, as if she herself had been insulted, and hissed, "You must know that it is quite impossible for me to visit Willowbank while Miss Bennet is there. As an unmarried woman, I have my reputation to consider. I cannot possibly go into the society of a woman who has…."

Jane stood abruptly, and facing Caroline Bingley with calm dignity, she enquired, "Who has… what, Caroline? What, pray tell, do you know of the matter?"

Miss Bingley was taken aback by the uncharacteristic forcefulness of her sister-in-law. She blushed and turned away; then avoiding Jane's gaze, she replied, "My information is of a general nature only; its source is Mr. Darcy, whose veracity and good judgement I greatly respect. Furthermore, as a guest in his house, I feel myself obliged to abide by his wishes. I understand that neither he nor his sister will receive Miss Bennet at Pemberley, and that they do not visit Willowbank, on account of her presence there. I must take my lead from them." Before Jane could respond or question her further, Miss Bingley walked over to the pianoforte and began fawning over Georgiana.

* * *

Jane was so upset by Caroline Bingley that for a time she stopped calling upon Georgiana, for she knew that Caroline would be with her in the morning room at Pemberley; and her sister-in-law's supercilious society was too much for even her tolerant disposition. She suspected that poor Georgiana must find it a trial, being constantly confined to Caroline's company and subjected to her patently false affections. To an intelligent girl such as Georgiana, it could not but be apparent that Miss Bingley's professed fondness for her was mere artifice, designed to cultivate the good opinion of the sister of the man whom she was determined to have as her husband.

Jane avoided alluding to the probable marriage of Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth, for she was certain that her sister still had feelings for the gentleman – conflicted though they might be. However, a conversation had taken place between Mr. Darcy and her husband which she felt bound to report to her sister.

"Lizzy, there is something I must tell you. Last night, Mr. Darcy requested a private conversation with Charles. His object was to ascertain Charles' views on his marrying Caroline. Charles consented, of course, but he surprised Darcy by saying that he would have preferred his sister to marry someone who loved her."

Elizabeth was silent. The news was hardly surprising. Mr. Darcy's intention had been implicit in his request that Georgiana invite Miss Bingley to Pemberley; and he could hardly have been in any doubt as to the eagerness with which his proposal would be accepted.

"Your husband is lately become quite outspoken with his friend," replied Elizabeth, attempting to make light of the matter. "How did Mr. Darcy respond? Did he swear his undying love for Miss Bingley?"

Jane smiled. "According to Charles, he was serious and sombre – not what one would expect at such a moment in his life. He simply said that he does not believe in love, and that he needs to think about an heir."

A tear ran down Elizabeth's cheek. Jane embraced her and said, "I am sorry, Lizzy, to bring you such news. I know that despite everything, it must distress you."

"Yes," replied Elizabeth sadly, drying her eyes, "it distresses me deeply, and I do not know whether my tears are for myself or for Mr. Darcy." She struggled to subdue her feelings. _Perhaps once he is married and all hope is gone, the intensity of the multitude of conflicting emotions he provokes in me will be blunted and finally die_, thought Elizabeth. "Has a date been set for the wedding?"

"They are to wed in a little more than a month, in early September."

"So soon!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Charles believes that they have had an understanding for some time."

"Perhaps Mr. Darcy was waiting for Lady Catherine to die," said Elizabeth. "She had been ill for some time – it was not unexpected. I think I told you that his aunt was determined that Mr. Darcy should marry her daughter, Anne. Perhaps he waited out of consideration for her sentiments."

* * *

Jane received a note from Georgiana, begging her to wait on her the following morning, when she would be all alone.

Georgiana was most pleased to see Jane. "I fully understand your reasons for not calling upon me of late, dear Jane; no apology is necessary. I would do no less in your position – oh, that I could so easily escape her! You must know of the betrothal." Jane nodded. "How shall I bear it when she becomes mistress of Pemberley? She will no longer have reason to pretend she adores me, or even to treat me with tolerable kindness. I shall be under her power – it will be altogether awful," she cried.

"My poor Georgiana," said Jane, embracing her. "There is but one escape."

"I know," said Georgiana, with a long, sad, sigh. "I must marry; it is the only remedy."

"Do not be sad, my dear. If you marry wisely, where there is love, you will be happy, indeed."

"Yes, perhaps. But, Jane, I am not yet ready to marry. I do so wish to remain here at Pemberley for many more years yet, with my brother – and with a sister whom I can truly love…."

Jane embraced Georgiana again. She was well aware that it was her sister, Elizabeth, whom she wished her brother to marry; but did not give voice to it, for though she wished for exactly the same thing, she knew it to be impossible.

"I am no longer a child, Jane, and I know it does no good to dream. Therefore, I must begin seriously thinking about marriage. My brother is to give a ball at Pemberley to celebrate his betrothal. That is why you find me all alone this morning; Miss Bingley is gone to Chesterfield to commission a gown for the occasion. I wish to talk with you of prospective husbands – or at least of one in particular."

"Lord Netherby?" guessed Jane, and when Georgiana nodded, she asked, "Do you like him?"

Georgiana smiled. "I do like him. He is very pleasant; though I confess, I never had the least desire to marry him – until now! I am well aware that my brother decided some time ago that Lord Netherby would make me a suitable husband, and that an alliance between our families would be advantageous to them both. Together with Lady Netherby, who, no doubt, is party to the scheme, my brother took pains to ensure that I was often in his company when we were lately in town. Jane, I want your advice. Everyone seems to think it desirable – and it would save me from Caroline Bingley."

"But none of that is to the point if you and Lord Netherby do not love each other."

"What matters love?" asked Georgiana. "I have never truly known love of that sort; and it does not appear to be a consideration for either my brother or Miss Bingley – neither of whom loves the other."

"I fear you are seeking counsel from the wrong person, my dear, for I _do_ believe in love. It is better, in my opinion, not to marry at all than to marry without love."

"Lord Netherby and his sister will be invited to the ball, and to spend some days at Pemberley. It will give me an opportunity to consider his character and to think seriously upon whether I could be happy with him."

"That is most sensible. I do not say you should not marry him; only that you should not rush into it. I found him to be a most charming and agreeable young man, and I know that Elizabeth was likewise charmed. If you are able to love Lord Netherby, and he returns your love, then he is very likely the ideal husband for you."

"Jane, I wish to ask you about your sister and Lord Netherby."

"What do you mean? There is absolutely nothing at all between them; of that I can assure you."

"I thought Elizabeth very taken with him – and he with her. They seemed to converse so easily and with such animation at his mother's ball. Though it did not trouble me in the least, it appeared to me that Lord Netherby found your sister far more fascinating than myself. I would feel terrible, after everything Elizabeth has had to endure – and continues to endure – if I should be the means of her losing the possibility of finding happiness."

"Your kindness and consideration do you credit, dear Georgiana," replied Jane, "but please believe me when I say that it is quite impossible that Lord Netherby could have captured my sister's heart."

"Because it still belongs to another?" asked Georgiana sadly.

Jane gently shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

_**Please leave a comment...**_


	8. The Pemberley Ball

_**Chapter 8 ~ The Pemberley Ball**_

The day before the Pemberley ball, while picking flowers, Elizabeth heard the sound of horses, and looking up, she saw an unfamiliar carriage approaching the house. As the occupants alighted, Elizabeth was surprised to recognise Lord Edward Netherby and his sister, both of whom greeted her warmly. Jane and Bingley were delighted to welcome them to Willowbank and immediately proposed a tour of the grounds in the late morning sunshine.

Elizabeth was surprised at their arrival, given the prohibition at Pemberley regarding visits to Willowbank and her exclusion from Mr. Darcy's society. _But they only arrived at Pemberley yesterday evening, _considered Elizabeth. _Mr. Darcy has not yet had the opportunity to warn them of how dangerous a creature I am._

Lord Netherby attached himself to Elizabeth and contrived to separate her from the rest of the party as they walked along the bank of the beautiful river. "I must confess that it was more than merely the fabled delights of Willowbank which drew me here so promptly. I come with a particular request to make of you, Miss Bennet. If that honour is not already promised to another, I request the pleasure of the first two dances at the ball tomorrow."

"Oh!" exclaimed Elizabeth. _How awkward,_ she thought. To give herself time to consider of how she might best explain the situation, she said, "There are those, I imagine, who might have wished – indeed expected – that special honour to be bestowed upon another."

"Ah yes," laughed Lord Netherby. "You are doubtless alluding to the designs of my mother and my friend Darcy – who has already intimated, and not at all subtly, I might add, how delighted he would be to see me partnering one particular young lady when he opens the ball with his betrothed."

"The symbolism is quite unmistakable," said Elizabeth, with an impish smile.

"Indeed it is, and while I have the warmest regard for that young lady, my feelings for another are warmer yet," said he, looking at Elizabeth, who steadfastly avoided his gaze.

"Lord Netherby, I thank you for the honour of your invitation. I am conscious of the warmth of your application; but, most regrettably, I must decline it."

Lord Netherby smiled, "Alas, I have left my run too late. I should have guessed that a lady of your considerable beauty and charm would be much sought after; her card could not possibly be empty so close to a ball. I pray that I am not too late, that it is not entirely full; that there are yet one or two – or perhaps even three – dances left for me?"

Elizabeth could not but be flattered at Lord Netherby's playful gallantry. However, the strength of his stated preference both surprised and alarmed her. Elizabeth liked Lord Netherby very much, and took great pleasure in his company. Perhaps, if her heart were not caught up in what felt to be an unending tempest, she might, very well, in time, come to love him. And then there was Georgiana. In consequence of Jane's report of their recent conversation, Elizabeth was aware that although she had not previously favoured her brother's scheme of marrying her to Lord Netherby, Georgiana was now considering it seriously, as a means of escaping her future sister-in-law, Caroline Bingley. Having spent several days in Netherfield Park where Miss Bingley was mistress – and then, as a visitor, not a younger sister – Elizabeth sympathised deeply with Georgiana, and wished in no way to become an obstacle to a possible means of her escaping such a fate.

It occurred to Elizabeth that her answer to Lord Netherby must also act to destroy his ardour and leave the field clear for Georgiana. Yet it was a disagreeable undertaking, which she embarked upon without enthusiasm. "Regrettably, Lord Netherby, I have no dance card in which to enter your name, for I shall not be attending the ball at Pemberley tomorrow."

"I do not comprehend your meaning, Miss Bennet. Surely you cannot have another engagement that would take precedence over a ball! Young ladies are always complaining that there are never enough balls in the country. Why, my sister and I have travelled from Nottinghamshire to attend, and you live nearer. Furthermore, the purpose of the ball is to celebrate the engagement of Mr. Bingley's sister. Surely all of Willowbank must attend on so significant an occasion of their relative?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Bingley will most certainly be in attendance, but not I, for I have not been invited," said Elizabeth, feeling all the embarrassment of so bizarre a revelation.

Lord Netherby, looking at her most earnestly, enquired, "Miss Bennet, what is this all about? I must tell you that I did not fail to notice, at my mother's ball in London, that not only did Mr. Darcy not dance with you, but he appeared to go to great lengths to avoid you."

Elizabeth sighed, but remained silent.

"His behaviour struck me most forcibly and was entirely contrary to my expectations, on account of something which occurred about a year ago when I happened to run into Darcy at our club in London.

"He had just come up from Derbyshire to take care of some urgent matter of business. We were talking and drinking – too much, no doubt – and he intimated that for the first time in his life he understood what it was to love. Later in the evening, when we had imbibed even more wine, and were engaged in a most animated conversation regarding female beauty, he spoke with uncharacteristic passion and candour of a young lady whom he had first met in Hertfordshire and had but recently encountered again, in Derbyshire. Towards the end of the evening – or at least the last of it that I can recall; I do not know how much of it Darcy remembers – he mentioned a young lady who had the most beautiful eyes he had ever beheld. Though he was not explicit, it was evident that he was referring to the same lady of whom he had spoken on the two earlier occasions that evening. This time he let slip her name – it was… well, I imagine you can guess it," said Lord Netherby, smiling playfully at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's face reddened. She stared silently at the river. It must have been when Mr. Darcy was in London searching for Lydia and Wickham. Elizabeth had always thought him to be of a sober temperament, but perhaps the odious nature of the task in which he was then engaged caused him to overindulge with his friend on the evening in question.

"And now he is to marry Miss Caroline Bingley," said Lord Netherby, shaking his head disdainfully. "How can my friend have allowed his ambitions to fall so far, from the very highest to… well… tell me, Miss Bennet, did you refuse… err, pardon me, that is not a proper question to ask a lady."

Elizabeth smiled inwardly, for she surmised that Lord Netherby was conjecturing that she had refused an offer of marriage from Darcy – which, indeed she had, in Kent – but she well knew that it was not the reason for his present behaviour.

"Please forgive me, Miss Bennet, if I am overly forthright," said Lord Netherby, "but I find my friend Darcy's behaviour provoking. Whatever the offence for which he means to punish you by excluding you from his ball, I must say that you got off lightly; it is nothing in comparison to the punishment which he has apportioned to himself!"

"You are mistaken, sir, with regard to the reason why I did not receive an invitation."

"Oh?"

"Since my arrival here at Willowbank, Mr. Darcy has scrupulously excluded me from his company. When Mr. Bingley and my sister are invited to dine, I do not accompany them to Pemberley. Mr. Darcy and his sister do not dine at Willowbank, and neither does he come to shoot or fish with Mr. Bingley, nor allow his sister to call upon me. Being the first family of the district, Darcy's lead is unquestioningly followed by the local society."

"Good God!" exclaimed Lord Netherby, in outrage. "What reason has he given for such brutish behaviour?"

"To society at large, none that I know of. It is simply assumed that whatever the reasons of a man of Darcy's stature and reputation, they must be just and well-deserved. Doubtless the local gossip is teeming with salacious stories and speculations of my heinous wrongdoings; but my friends are kind enough to conceal them from me. To his sister and cousin, to whom some explanation was necessary, he has… cast aspersions upon my character."

"Good heavens! How can they believe it? How could anyone who knows you believe it?"

"They do not believe it. Miss Darcy is naturally obliged to obey her brother's ruling, but Colonel Fitzwilliam comes here often, and frequently dines with us."

"I am glad to hear it; he is a sensible and honourable man. But then so, too, is Darcy, or at least I have always thought him so – until now! Do you have any idea, Miss Bennet, why Mr. Darcy is behaving in so extraordinary a manner? Though I must now question his good sense, I cannot doubt his integrity; he would not give his sister and cousin reason to believe something that he did not, himself, believe to be unquestionably the truth. But how did he come to believe it?"

"I do not know exactly what slander Mr. Darcy has heard concerning me. I only know that he has been imposed upon by those who would seek to mislead him and to blacken my name," said Elizabeth harshly.

"How completely awful this must be for you, my dear Miss Bennet. Please believe me when I say that I do not for a single moment give the slightest credence to these lies – regardless of what Darcy may believe."

"Thank you, sir, I am most grateful," said Elizabeth.

"Do you know the identity of the perpetrators of this falsehood? Is there any way to expose them?"

"I believe I know the individuals involved in the deception. Though to be perfectly truthful, I can only claim to know for certain that the people in question are engaged in some kind of slippery, clandestine dealings. I have reason, but not proof, to suppose that the purpose of those dealings is to deceive Mr. Darcy regarding my character. I know not the specifics of their lies."

"But if Darcy were to hear all this, is it not possible that he would be persuaded?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I think not. He has hated me unflinchingly for so long that I doubt very much I would receive a fair hearing – in the unlikely event that he would even agree to listen."

"Perhaps if you told me everything, I could represent your case to Darcy. He would, I believe, at least listen to me," said Lord Netherby.

"I cannot agree, sir," replied Elizabeth, shaking her head sadly. "His heart is closed to me; it is as if I no longer exist. He enforces a strict taboo at Pemberley – my name may not be mentioned. I think he would refuse to hear you. I thank you for your kindness and generosity, sir, in wishing to be of assistance, but I have other reasons for not wishing to accept your kind offer. My information comes from an acquaintance who obtained it by underhanded means. As a matter of honour, I should have refused even to hear it in the first instance. The method by which it was obtained prevents me from disclosing it to others. Furthermore, not only am I ignorant of the lies which have been communicated to Mr. Darcy regarding my character, but I cannot be absolutely certain that the intrigue witnessed by my acquaintance is, in fact, related to the communication of those lies – although given the identity of those involved, I think it highly probable."

"You mean, I suppose," surmised Lord Netherby, looking directly at Elizabeth, "that the actors in this intrigue might have something to gain from Darcy thinking ill of you?"

Elizabeth nodded, almost imperceptibly, and then immediately quickened her pace to rejoin the others, ending their conversation.

* * *

"May I have a private word with you, Darcy?" requested Lord Netherby upon finding the master of the house seated alone in the library.

"Certainly you may, Netherby; in fact, I was wishing to speak with you privately, myself."

"About Miss Elizabeth Bennet, perchance?" asked Lord Netherby, seating himself in a comfortable wing chair facing Darcy.

"Yes," said Darcy, gravely. "I wish you to know – and to communicate it to Miss Netherby – that I am in receipt of information regarding Miss Bennet's character, in consequence of which I refuse to admit her into my society. I will not receive her at Pemberley. Consequently, she will not be at the ball this evening."

"Yes, I know. Miss Bennet informed me of it herself."

"You have been to Willowbank? You have spoken with her?"

"Yes, Victoria and I drove over and spent a delightful morning there. Mrs. Bingley invited us to dine there on Saturday, and we were pleased to accept the invitation."

Darcy's expression became severe. "I will not visit Willowbank or allow my sister to call there. I will not permit her to go into the society of… that woman."

"Darcy, I am not going to ask you to provide me with the proof upon which is founded your opinion of Miss Bennet, because, quite frankly, I do not care to sully myself with slander."

"I would not reveal it to you. I have not divulged it to a single soul. I have attempted to avoid disclosing even the fact of her loss of character, except to my guests at Pemberley, to whom I feel some explanation is required. My general acquaintances know only that I have excluded her from my society."

"And thus, is she ostracised from all good society in the district; and in the absence of the particulars of the offences you believe her to have committed, people imagine and invent every manner of immoral deed. How can you treat the woman you once loved with such cruelty, Darcy? I could not have imagined it of you."

Darcy's face reddened. His friend's words cut deeply. He had not considered how his actions must affect Miss Bennet, because he struggled constantly to prevent his thoughts from dwelling upon her. Though he did not wish to discuss her, his curiosity got the better of him. "From whom did you hear the fanciful notion that I once loved her?"

"Why, from you, Darcy! Do you remember nothing of a somewhat drunken conversation at our club last summer? You were just up from Pemberley to take care of some urgent business."

"Last summer? Oh yes, I do remember meeting you at the club – and quite probably drinking too much – most out of character for me, but I am deuced if I can recollect anything concerning what we might have spoken of."

"True love, female beauty, and the most exquisite pair of eyes – all of which, as I recall, you found residing in one particular lady from Hertfordshire, by the name of _Elizabeth Bennet_," said Lord Netherby provocatively.

Darcy rose abruptly from his chair and walked away from his companion. "If I was so inebriated as to not remember our conversation, then you, too, must have been inebriated – enough, perhaps, to have imagined it all."

Then turning back towards Lord Netherby, he said, "I kindly request you and your sister to observe the conventions of the house while you are my guests. The name of _that woman_ is not to be mentioned under this roof. You are, of course, completely free to visit or dine wherever, and with whomever, you please. I have done my duty as a gentleman in warning you of Miss – err – Mrs. Bingley's sister's character. I would be much obliged if you could communicate the information to Miss Netherby."

Darcy determined to end the conversation by leaving the library. But before he could reach the door, Lord Netherby rose from his chair, and walking quickly after him, he said, "Did it never occur to you, Darcy, that you might have been deliberately misinformed concerning Miss Bennet?"

Darcy stopped and turned. "I cannot imagine why anyone would wish to mislead me. It is entirely inconceivable."

"Really? Can you think of not a single acquaintance who might stand to benefit from her loss of character in your eyes?" asked Lord Netherby, who was now standing face-to-face with Darcy.

Darcy's eyes momentarily widened, as if in recognition, and his face reddened. He took a deep breath, and setting his face in a mask of offended dignity, he said, "There is _no one_ of my acquaintance who would behave in so low and immoral a manner; of that I am quite certain. I have absolute confidence that the report concerning Mrs. Bingley's sister is, most regrettably, entirely accurate."

"And I will continue to believe her to be utterly innocent of these scurrilous lies and think of her – perhaps, in much the same way as you once thought of her, Darcy – before you fell victim to this evil deception."

Darcy's face reddened. Netherby's words had created a doubt which threatened the integrity of the entire edifice of denial he had constructed to block out Elizabeth Bennet. The allusion to the way he had once thought of her stirred up unwanted memories and emotions that he had struggled hard to bury. He must not allow himself to compare that passion and fervour with his feeble feelings for the woman to whom he was now engaged.

Darcy turned again to leave the library and terminate the painful conversation. "Believe what you like, Netherby! If you choose to associate yourself with her, you are a damned fool!"

"One of us is most certainly a fool," said Lord Netherby, shaking his head in resignation as Darcy stormed from the library.

**_Please leave a comment..._**


	9. The Will

_**Chapter 9 ~ The Will**_

Elizabeth was able to take consolation from Jane's report of the ball. What had promised to be the foremost social event of the season in the neighbourhood had transpired to be a wholly unmemorable and unremarkable event. "The evening, I think, was somewhat of a trial for Mr. Darcy. His mood was sombre and reserved, quite the opposite of what one would expect, considering the occasion it was designed to celebrate. Miss Bingley seemed better pleased than he. Indeed, at times she seemed to forget that she was not yet mistress of Pemberley, and intruded upon Georgiana's obligations and prerogative as hostess."

"And did Georgiana dance the first two with Lord Netherby?" inquired Elizabeth.

"Indeed she did, and he engaged her again for the first set after supper. I must say that she looked very beautiful, and I think she made quite an effort at engaging Lord Netherby's attention."

"And with what success?"

"I believe he paid Georgiana more attention than any other young lady – amongst those that were _present_ at the ball," said Jane meaningfully. "When he danced with me, he commented ruefully upon your absence, and what a great loss it was to the whole company. And he asked me to be sure to give you his best regards – as did Colonel Fitzwilliam. They both sympathised with how you must suffer from your exclusion from society. Although last night, I believe that it was they who suffered the most on that account."

Elizabeth smiled at the compliment.

"I have invited Lord Netherby and his sister to dine with us today," said Jane, "for tomorrow they return to Nottinghamshire. Colonel Fitzwilliam, also, is invited, so you shall not be entirely starved of society."

When their visitors arrived, Elizabeth found herself the object of gallantries from both gentlemen, who swore that Willowbank, and its amiable occupants, gave them far greater pleasure than the previous evening's ball. Elizabeth felt flattered and light-hearted; Mr. Darcy was, for some hours, entirely forgotten. Before they departed, Miss Netherby invited Elizabeth to visit her soon at Fendalton Park.

"We may even be able to arrange a ball in your honour; and I promise you, it shall be a far merrier affair than the one you were unable to attend yesterday," said Victoria, smiling playfully.

Elizabeth wondered whether Miss Netherby's invitation was, perhaps, given in the hope of forwarding a greater intimacy between herself and Lord Netherby, whom Elizabeth suspected might, in fact, be the author of the scheme. And was the allusion to the previous evening's ball at Pemberley, the purpose of which was to celebrate a betrothal, a hint that the proposed ball at Fendalton Park might serve a similar purpose – or at least serve in forwarding one?

* * *

"How are you getting on with Lady Catherine's will, Fitzwilliam?" asked Darcy. They were seated in the library on a rainy autumn afternoon. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy were executors of their aunt's will, copies of which had arrived from her solicitor in the morning post. "I have not yet looked at my copy, but I would not expect it to contain anything of an exceptional nature; our dear aunt was such a paragon of punctiliousness and predictability."

Fitzwilliam laughed. "Indeed she was. And, as I recall, very fond of speaking about what would become of her grand estate when she passed away."

"Yes," said Darcy, smiling, "proclaiming how she intended to continue her rule from beyond the grave was one of Lady Catherine's favourite foibles. From what I can remember, pretty much the entire estate passes to Anne. No doubt there must be some small legacies and other gratuities bequeathed to her intimates."

"Yes, I am just coming to that part now," said the colonel, returning to the will. Darcy resumed his book.

"I was not aware that Miss Bingley was acquainted with our aunt," said the colonel, a few minutes later.

"Nor I," said Darcy, looking up. "Whatever gives you the notion that an acquaintance existed?"

"She leaves a legacy of six hundred pounds per annum to Miss Caroline Bingley of Fairfield Gardens in London."

"Indeed! I cannot think how she could have even made our aunt's acquaintance. To the best of my knowledge, Caroline has never visited Rosings Park; in fact, I recall her once troubling me with all manner of questions pertaining to the decorations of the principal rooms."

"Perhaps Miss Bingley and Lady Catherine met in London?" suggested Fitzwilliam. "Our aunt used to go up occasionally."

"I think not," replied Darcy. "But if they had met, it could not have been more than a passing acquaintance of the most casual sort. They can hardly have been on such terms as to occasion a legacy. And had such an acquaintance existed, one or other of them would have mentioned it – and neither did."

"This is rather odd," said the colonel, who had returned to reading the will. "The six hundred pounds is to be paid to Miss Bingley in quarterly instalments of one hundred and fifty pounds."

"Yes, that is somewhat unusual, for such an amount," reflected Darcy. "Anything less than one thousand pounds is customarily paid annually, except where the recipient is a minor."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Fitzwilliam. "This becomes entirely bizarre!"

"What now?" asked Darcy.

"Read it for yourself!" said Colonel Fitzwilliam, handing the will to his cousin.

"Payment of the legacy to Miss Bingley is to cease upon the marriage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh's nephew, _Fitzwilliam Darcy_ of Pemberley," read Darcy, astonished. "I cannot begin to comprehend the meaning of this! Our aunt was of sound mind, right to the end, was she not?"

"I saw her not three months ago," replied the colonel, "and although she was, by then, very ill, she had lost none of her mental faculties. Perhaps subsequently she suffered some confusion? When was the will made?"

Turning to the final page, Darcy read, "The fifteenth day of October, eighteen hundred and twelve. As I recall, it must be around the time that Lady Catherine asked me if I would agree to serve as one of the executors of her estate, for I was not named an executor in her previous will. In any case, the will was made fully ten months ago, so our aunt was unquestionably in possession of her faculties at the time. It is a pity that Caroline departed only a few days ago for London; I should dearly like to know what light she can shed on this extraordinary legacy. I shall write to her immediately," he said, opening his desk and taking out a sheet of paper.

Colonel Fitzwilliam picked up the will and completed reading it, but encountered nothing else the least bit untoward. He poured himself a port and sat in a comfortable winged armchair, sipping his drink, watching his cousin writing, and searching for an explanation. When Darcy had finally sealed his letter, the colonel asked him, "Tell me, Darcy, was it mere coincidence that you and Miss Bingley announced your engagement barely a week or two after Lady Catherine's death?"

Darcy shook his head. "No. In fact, we have had an understanding for some months. You know, of course, that our aunt wished me to marry Anne. Though I scrupulously avoided giving Lady Catherine the least reason to believe that I desired to marry her daughter, or was ever likely to do so, she clung tenaciously to the ambition. As her health was failing and it seemed that she had not much longer to live, Caroline and I decided to postpone the formal announcement of our betrothal until Lady Catherine was gone, to save causing her unnecessary grief."

"Whose idea was that? Yours or Miss Bingley's?"

"Mine," replied Darcy immediately. Then after a moment's reflection, he corrected himself, "No; now that I cast my mind back, it was Caroline who first suggested it – and of course I readily assented. I remember thinking that it showed a degree of kindness and consideration that I had not previously suspected her to possess – for I understood her to have been eager to marry for some considerable period of time, and would have expected her to wish for the betrothal, if not the marriage, to take place as soon as possible."

"Yet she was happy to postpone the announcement until our aunt had passed away, and in fact suggested it herself," mused the colonel. Then after some moments of silent contemplation, he exclaimed, "By Jove, Darcy, I have it! Lady Catherine's unexpected legacy to Miss Bingley is intended to ensure that she does not marry you! There must have been a secret agreement between them! Our aunt continued to hope that you would marry Anne. But once you were married – to Anne, or to any other woman, for that matter – there would no longer be any purpose in paying Miss Bingley; so the payments were to cease."

"No, Fitzwilliam, that makes no sense at all! Caroline can not be in such desperate need of funds that one hundred and fifty pounds a quarter would be sufficient to persuade her to relinquish her matrimonial ambitions. In any case, once we are married, her financial circumstances will be far superior to what they must presently be – even with the addition of the legacy. Caroline is well aware of my financial situation, and can be in no doubt of my ability to pay for everything she might wish for. Furthermore, if your fanciful explanation were correct, Lady Catherine would have paid Caroline during her lifetime."

"Perhaps she did?" conjectured Fitzwilliam. "The records from our aunt's banker should be here," he said, rising from his chair to peruse the documents from the solicitor that were spread over the table where he had been earlier examining them. "Yes, here are the banker's accounts; let me see if there were any payments to Miss Bingley." After a moment's examination, he found what he was looking for. "Here its is: payments of one hundred and fifty pounds were made to Miss Bingley in October last year, and then again in January, April, and July this year. And there is a note to the effect that one hundred and fifty pounds should be paid from our aunt's account to Miss Bingley, every three months."

Darcy tore open the letter he had sealed only minutes earlier. "I shall demand an explanation from Caroline," said he, quickly adding another half dozen lines before resealing it. "I am most anxious to know what explanation she is able to provide for this most extraordinary arrangement; and why she has never made mention of it. Perhaps her brother, Charles, knows something of the matter – I am impatient to get to the bottom of this, Fitzwilliam, but it would be most awkward for me to go to Willowbank, to raise it with him."

"I am more than happy to undertake the task," said his cousin, who was glad of the opportunity of visiting Willowbank – and its agreeable residents. "I shall ride over first thing tomorrow morning."

* * *

When he was shown into the morning room, Colonel Fitzwilliam was pleased to find Charles Bingley seated with the ladies. He was happy to have all three occupants of the house present, as any one of them might have information pertaining to the perplexing enquiry he brought with him from Pemberley.

After exchanging pleasantries and seating himself, the colonel got directly to the matter at hand. "Bingley, are you aware of an acquaintance of any kind between your sister, Caroline, and my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?"

Charles thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No, there was none that I know of. What reason can you have for suspecting that such an acquaintance existed?"

"Together with Darcy, I am an executor of Lady Catherine's will, copies of which arrived yesterday from her solicitor. In it, she leaves a legacy to your sister of six hundred pounds per annum to be paid in quarterly amounts, until…"

"How utterly bizarre!" exclaimed Bingley, shaking his head. "Why on earth should Lady Catherine de Bourgh leave a legacy to Caroline – I cannot imagine what the reason might be; I am totally mystified."

"You are about to become more mystified, yet. There is a most peculiar condition attached to this legacy; it shall cease upon the marriage of Fitzwilliam Darcy."

The three listeners gasped in amazement.

"And furthermore," continued Fitzwilliam, "during her lifetime, Lady Catherine paid an amount of one hundred and fifty pounds to Miss Bingley every three months."

Charles and Jane Bingley were stunned into to silence, but not Elizabeth. "When did these payments begin?" she asked.

"The first was made in October last year," replied the colonel. "Why do you ask? Do you know something of the matter, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth proceeded to recount to the colonel and Charles Bingley, who was likewise ignorant of the matter, all that Lydia had revealed to her in Longbourn regarding the conversations she had overheard between Miss Bingley and her husband, George Wickham. She concealed only the source of her information and the manner in which it was obtained.

Charles was stunned to hear that his sister was involved in unsavoury and underhanded dealings with a rogue like Wickham.

"I guessed that Caroline Bingley was providing money to Wickham to prevent him revealing information concerning the mysterious letter," said Elizabeth. "The recipient of the letter was, I surmised, Mr. Darcy, and its purpose was to deceive him concerning my character. Miss Bingley was involved in the deception, and Wickham, having learned of it, threatened to reveal its spurious nature to Darcy, unless she provided money to keep him silent. The only part of the intrigue that I could not fathom was how Miss Bingley was able to provide Wickham with so substantial an amount, for she is known to be generally stretched for funds."

"Are you suggesting that Lady Catherine was supplying the money to Miss Bingley?" asked the colonel, flabbergasted. "I simply cannot believe that my aunt would involve herself in so disgraceful an intrigue! Whatever other faults she may have had, Lady Catherine prided herself on being a paragon of Christian virtue. It is unthinkable that she could have associated herself with anything the least bit questionable – let alone so base and deceitful a scheme – and involving the likes of George Wickham!"

"Yet I am almost certain that the money Wickham was receiving from Caroline Bingley came from your aunt," said Elizabeth decidedly. "How else can you explain Lady Catherine's payments to Miss Bingley, and the legacy she left her?"

"I cannot. But, why on earth would my aunt allow herself to get caught up in so odious a stratagem?"

"For the very same reason as Caroline Bingley. They had a common interest in defaming my character. I have no idea of what lies were contained in that letter; but of its purpose I am almost certain – it was to turn Mr. Darcy against me. They both perceived me as an obstacle to their matrimonial ambitions. In Miss Bingley's case, her own; in Lady Catherine's, for her daughter, Anne."

* * *

Darcy paced distractedly back and forth along one wall of his library. His cousin, who had just recounted what he had heard at Willowbank, was waiting for him to make a coherent response. But he made none; he just kept pacing back and forth, angrily shaking his head.

"Here, drink this," said Fitzwilliam, handing him a generous glass of brandy. "Your face is as red as a beetroot, Darcy. Please sit down, and try to calm yourself."

Darcy accepted the brandy and the advice, and after draining his glass, he sighed and hung his head in despair.

"Is it true, Darcy, that you received a slanderous letter concerning Miss Bennet?"

"My God, yes, there is such a letter! I received it in October last year. At first I refused to believe it; but there were further letters, from those whose veracity I could not doubt. But now I see how comprehensively I have been duped and deceived – and now it is all too late – how she must utterly loathe me."

Then jumping to his feet, Darcy unlocked his writing desk and removed a bundle of letters, tied together with a black ribbon, and thrust them at his cousin. "Read them!" he exclaimed, fiercely.

_**Please leave a comment...**_


	10. The Letters

_**Chapter 10 ~ The Letters**_

It was but an hour or two past midday when Colonel Fitzwilliam found himself once again at Willowbank. When he was shown into the parlour, the three occupants were surprised to see him, but in little doubt of the business to which his second visit of the day must be due.

"My cousin has requested me to come as his emissary. He apologises for not coming himself, but he judged that at least one of the company would prefer not to see him. He requests that I read you the letter to which Miss Bennet alluded this morning. I am sure you will agree that, given its spurious nature, no breach of confidence can be attached to your hearing it."

Upon receiving their assent, Colonel Fitzwilliam continued, "The letter is dated the fourth of October, 1812, and was written by George Wickham."

"George Wickham?" exclaimed Elizabeth in surprise. "It did not occur to me that Mr. Wickham could himself be the letter's author. I thought only that he had come to learn of it. Please continue, Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"Very well," said the colonel.

"'_Dear Mr. Darcy,_

_Being greatly appreciative of the kind pecuniary assistance you rendered by way of assisting me into my recent marriage, I am gratified to find myself in a position of being able to return the favour in some small way, by the provision of some invaluable intelligence._

_Please excuse me if I allude to matters which you might wish to remain secret, when I make mention of the prospect of the marriage of a third Miss Bennet – Miss Elizabeth Bennet – to none other than yourself. _

_Unfortunately, there is no way of stating this with delicacy. To put it as politely as possible: Miss Elizabeth Bennet preceded her younger sister, Miss Lydia Bennet, by some months, in ceasing to be a maiden. _

_Do you doubt me, Darcy? Of course there is only one way that a gentleman can be absolutely certain in such matters – and the pleasure of that certainty is mine. If you choose not to believe me, you will know the truth to your eternal regret, on your wedding night._

_You may well wonder at my desire to enlighten you concerning Miss Bennet's loss of virtue. What reason could there be for my wishing to save you from what, doubtless, would be the greatest disappointment of your life – after all, we are not the best of friends – why would I wish to save you such suffering?_

_Due to various misfortunes, and much bad luck at the gaming table, I once again find my circumstances to be somewhat distressed, and am hopeful of receiving some small assistance, in appreciation of the exercise of my discretion. I imagine you might be rather anxious to ensure my silence with regard to Miss Bennet._

_Even though all thought of marriage to the lady must now be dashed, I imagine that your feelings are such that you would not wish to see Miss Bennet lose her honour in so public and disgraceful a manner. What is my silence worth to you, Darcy? Three thousand pounds is not a great deal for a gentleman of your wealth to save from public disgrace and ignominious scandal, the woman whom once he loved._

_You may perhaps even find that, notwithstanding her indiscretion, you still desire the lady. Miss Bennet cannot be entirely blamed for succumbing to the well-practiced wiles of so accomplished a master of the art of seduction as myself. If she can be blamed, it is for being naïve, and foolish enough to believe that we were clandestinely betrothed; and that I truly intended to marry her. She allowed herself to be persuaded that intimacies of the kind we enjoyed were in fact a formal seal of betrothal – which indeed they are at some levels of society – although undoubtedly not amongst those of your elevated rank. _

_Though marriage to a lady in Miss Bennet's compromised situation can no longer be a consideration, there are other possibilities for a gentleman in your circumstances – she would make you a fine mistress; to that I can most readily attest._

_Were you to choose such an arrangement, you would still, I believe, wish me to keep my silence – not to preserve the lady's honour, but rather your own pride. I know you well enough, Darcy, to suppose that you would not wish the world to know that you follow in George Wickham's infamous footsteps._

_Yours, etc,_

_George Wickham'_

"I sincerely regret any embarrassment I may have unwillingly caused you," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, noting the ladies blushing deeply, and staring intently at the floor. Even Bingley did not know where to rest his gaze. At length, Jane rang for tea.

"Mr. Darcy will, I am sure, likewise regret the mortification that this letter must cause you, Miss Bennet; but he believed it to be your right to know what falsehoods have been laid at your door – although, he assures me that until today, he has neither shown the letter, nor divulged its odious contents, to a single soul."

"How could he have given credence to such slander?" demanded Elizabeth angrily. "What can have been his comprehension of my character that he would believe me capable of such immoral behaviour? Even were the author of the letter the most reputable of acquaintances, he should have dismissed it immediately as nothing more than a scurrilous slur. But to allow his faith in my respectability to be sunk by the testimony of a man whom he knows to be the most unscrupulous of rogues… is simply beyond comprehension!"

"He did not believe it, Miss Bennet; and indeed he has provided me with a copy of the reply which was sent immediately to Mr. Wickham. If you will allow me, I shall read it.

'_Mr. Wickham,_

_You shall receive not a penny from me. I offer you, instead, my word as a gentleman that should you put about the slanderous falsehoods contained in your repugnant letter, that I shall call you out. You may recall from our younger days that I was more than a match for you with the sword. It will be my pleasure to inflict upon you one final, and well-deserved, defeat._

_Fitzwilliam Darcy'_

"I think you will agree Miss Bennet, that my cousin's willingness to defend your good name can leave little doubt as to his opinion regarding Wickham's falsehoods."

"How very noble it was of Mr. Darcy to offer to fight for my honour," said Elizabeth scathingly, "when all of his behaviour since that time has demonstrated the total absence of the least shred of faith in it!"

"If I may be permitted to read them, Miss Bennet," said Colonel Fitzwilliam, "there are two further letters, which may explain why my cousin's mind was altered. The first is from Mr. William Collins, the rector of Hunsford; and is dated the fourth of October, 1812.

'_My Dear Sir,_

_Please allow me to humbly acknowledge the great honour with which I find myself blessed in possessing the privilege of offering what I hope to be not an inconsiderable service to your noble and esteemed self. The honour of the above-mentioned service being greatly augmented, I believe, by your near relationship to my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh._

_Having thus dealt with the joy I feel on the occasion of this fortuitous opportunity of rendering you my service, I feel it incumbent upon myself to warn you that you may be displeased with the intelligence that I feel myself obliged to impart; and I beg that you will not blame me as the bearer of unwelcome tidings. As a diligent clergyman, I would never, for a moment, contemplate shirking that, which I know to be my duty, regardless of how it might harm my own self-interest – although I pray, that as a gentleman of the greatest intelligence, you will perceive that I am acting in what I most assuredly believe to be your best interests. _

_You are probably aware, although perhaps you are not, of my relationship to Mr. Bennet of Longbourn. Mr. Bennet and I are, in fact, cousins. You cannot be unaware, but perhaps you are, that my wife, Mrs. Collins, is the daughter of Sir William Lucas, a near neighbour of Mr. Bennet. _

_Thus, although my wife and I reside in Kent – which I am certain you must recall since you graciously deigned to visit our most humble abode at Hunsford on more than one occasion during your stay at Rosings Park last spring – in consequence of the above-mentioned connections existing between ourselves and Longbourn, and thereabouts, we are often recipients of reports from that part of Hertfordshire._

_My letter concerns two such reports. I will begin with the latter which, as you will soon comprehend, must be mentioned first. The report reached us only a day ago, and it was to the effect that Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn was at the point of betrothal, and that the chosen partner of her fate may be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in this land – viz. yourself, most noble sir._

_Naturally, I prepared myself to communicate to you the ineffable delight felt by Mrs. Collins and myself on this joyful occasion, and not least because it would be the means of forging a lasting relationship between ourselves, in consequence of Miss Bennet being the daughter of my cousin, which could only be of the greatest benefit to both our families._

_My reason for not despatching these joyous felicitations, apart from the fact that news of the official announcement had not yet reached my eager ears, was on account of the earlier report, some months prior, of which I have already made mention, and to which I must now direct my attention. Though it is most exceedingly difficult for me to speak ill of any relative of mine, the excessive loyalty that I feel to my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and by extension to yourself, as her near relative, requires me to divulge information that I assure you, nothing else could prevail upon me to reveal._

_You most certainly cannot be ignorant, although perhaps you are, of the infamous elopement of Miss Lydia Bennet with an officer of the Militia by the name of George Wickham. It was a most shameful business indeed! And though it was eventually patched up, and Mr. Wickham prevailed upon to marry the wicked young lady, as a clergyman I cannot approve. This, by the way, is not the earlier report itself, but merely some additional information pertaining to it, that sets the scene – if you will. The earlier report concerns the same gentleman, George Wickham, and an entirely different lady – Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I hope you take my meaning, most noble sir, when I tell you that it is commonplace knowledge, in the vicinity of Meryton, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not a respectable lady, which is to say that she is no longer a maiden – viz. she has lost her virtue. I hope you will not think me impudent when I venture to suggest that it would be entirely inappropriate for any gentleman – most especially one of your elevated rank – to have his revered named joined to that of a Jezebel (please excuse my strong language) such as Miss Bennet._

_I once again entreat you, noble sir, to bear me not ill will on account of the nature of the intelligence which I have felt obliged by my office, and all that is owing to my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to make known to you. _

_I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your esteemed aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and your cousins, Miss Anne de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam._

_William Collins'_

"It is worse, even, than one of his sermons," said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a smile.

Elizabeth would indeed have laughed at her cousin's clumsy performance and obsequious grovelling, had it not concerned so serious a matter.

"It is distressing," said Jane, "to witness a clergyman bearing false witness. I wonder what could have induced him to behave in so immoral a manner?"

"His esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh," said Elizabeth harshly.

"Surely not," pleaded Jane. "Can you truly believe that Lady Catherine would ask a clergyman to commit a sin – to bear false witness?"

"Oh yes, without a doubt! Although our stupid cousin probably believed what he wrote in his letter to be the truth. His claim of receiving a report from Hertfordshire that Mr. Darcy and I were to wed is almost certainly true. He wrote as much in a letter to our father. But as to the second report, though it is inferred, he does not explicitly claim to have received it directly from Hertfordshire. I believe he received it from a much nearer source – Lady Catherine, who doubtless obliged him to write of it to her nephew. The absurd language is clearly Mr. Collins', but the subject matter is unquestionably hers."

"Surely a lady of her rank and position in society could not behave in so unprincipled a manner?" objected Jane.

"Allow me to read the final letter; it may assist you in arriving at the answer to that question," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "It is from my aunt, and is dated the fifth of October, 1812.

'_My Dear Nephew,_

_A report reached me some days ago that, in all likelihood, you would very soon become engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. _

_As a consequence of the connections of my rector, Collins, and his wife, with that part of the country, I was made aware of an infamous elopement, some months ago, between Miss Elizabeth Bennet's youngest sister, and none other than George Wickham – who was ultimately prevailed upon to marry the shameful young woman in a patched-up business, at the expense of her father and uncles._

_It is my belief that such disgraceful behaviour must very likely be the consequence of bad blood or a faulty education – or both. Be that as it may, when such frailty exists in one sister, it will, in all likelihood, exist in the others. _

_I pride myself on being a scrupulously fair-minded person, and would not wish to condemn anyone, simply upon the grounds of association. However, you will readily comprehend my anxiety at your making such a match – if the elder Miss Bennet was, in fact, similarly tainted. I therefore engaged the services of a Bow Street officer who, I had been informed, readily undertook private commissions in addition to his police work. _

_I asked him to make a private investigation into Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and within a very short time I received a report confirming my worst fears. A liaison had taken place earlier in the year between Miss Elizabeth Bennet and George Wickham. The Bow Street officer assured me that the evidence was incontrovertible, and that the liaison was unquestionably of the most shameful nature._

_If the reports of your impending engagement to Miss Bennet are true (and I sincerely hope they are not) then I am sorry if I cause you pain. I take comfort, however, in consoling myself that in so doing, I am saving you from far greater suffering, which would plague you your whole life long. _

_Yours, etc,_

_Lady Catherine de Bourgh'_

"As you may imagine, Darcy is utterly devastated to discover that our aunt, Lady Catherine, has so shamelessly deceived him. We have known her all our lives, and while we found some of her eccentricities of character disagreeable, we never imagined, for a moment, that she would ever behave immorally. On the contrary, she has always placed great emphasis on honesty and integrity."

"Your aunt paid me a visit at Longbourn, only days before these letters were written," said Elizabeth. "Her object was to elicit a promise from me that I would not marry her nephew. I would have refused her impertinent demand regardless of what were my inclinations. Her final angry words were these: _'Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point.'_

"Having learnt something of my determined character when she made my acquaintance in Kent, Lady Catherine, I believe, anticipated my refusal, and had matters in hand, ready to be employed, in the likely event that she did not receive the promise she demanded of me."

"What do you mean, Lizzy?" asked Jane. "Surely she had nothing to do with Wickham writing that odious letter to Mr. Darcy; he was simply attempting to obtain three thousand pounds."

"No," said Elizabeth, shaking her head. "It is clear that Lady Catherine orchestrated everything, including Wickham's letter."

"Surely not!" exclaimed Jane.

"Oh, yes!" insisted Elizabeth. "Lady Catherine oversaw the writing of Wickham's letter – and that of Mr. Collins. Lady Catherine was entirely serious, and utterly determined, when she said that she would _carry her point_. She was obsessed with having Mr. Darcy marry her daughter, who she must have known was not an attractive marriage prospect, except to a gentleman seeking a fortune – something her nephew already possessed.

"I imagine," conjectured Elizabeth, "that she had her spies – perhaps even a Bow Street officer – maintaining a watch for possible competitors. Caroline Bingley's ambitions would very easily have been discovered. And when Lady Catherine determined that I was also a prospective threat to her plans, she cunningly enlisted Caroline's help. She was probably unaware that Lady Catherine knew of her own ambitions, and believed that she must be furthering them by assisting her Ladyship in discrediting me."

"Do you think that Caroline was aware of Lady Catherine's hopes that Mr. Darcy would marry her daughter?" conjectured Jane.

"Certainly – otherwise Lady Catherine's determination to prosecute so extraordinary a deception would have made no sense to Caroline – who, I imagine, was equally intent on discovering competitors. Her keen observation of Mr. Darcy very likely convinced her that Anne de Bourgh was not a serious rival."

"But surely you do not believe that my sister was responsible for the unprincipled stratagem of Wickham writing Darcy that repugnant letter," demanded Bingley.

"No, not for a minute," said Elizabeth shaking her head, decidedly. "It was all Lady Catherine's plan. She undoubtedly determined the content of the letter – although the words are Wickham's. Miss Bingley's part was dealing with George Wickham, and persuading him that Mr. Darcy would willingly pay him three thousand pounds. Lady Catherine, at least, would have been well aware of what her nephew's response would be."

"I wonder if Lady Catherine foresaw that Wickham would demand money to preserve his silence after Darcy refused him?" pondered Bingley.

"I imagine so," replied Elizabeth, "and had Wickham not demanded money, she would have instructed Caroline to offer it – although, doubtless, it was unnecessary."

"What? Why would my aunt wish to pay money to Wickham? Her views on charity were hardly liberal," said Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"To further compromise Caroline Bingley, who was also a threat to Anne," replied Elizabeth. "Lady Catherine would have had no direct dealings with Wickham; it was all done by Caroline. From what Lydia revealed, it seems that Wickham believed that it was Miss Bingley's money that was purchasing his silence. He was almost certainly ignorant of Lady Catherine's involvement in the affair. The provision of a legacy in the will was necessary to ensure that Wickham continued to receive his money, and so remain silent, as long as Mr. Darcy remained unmarried."

"But what I do not understand is how any of this could have prevented my sister from marrying Darcy if he made her an offer," said Bingley.

"Once the scheme was in place, Lady Catherine almost certainly informed your sister that should she become engaged to her nephew, the money for Wickham would stop, and that if Wickham did not himself guess that he'd been duped into discrediting me to Miss Bingley's advantage, then she, Lady Catherine, would ensure that he received the information anonymously. Wickham would become enraged with Miss Bingley, who had not the considerable funds that would be required to mollify him, and thus he would reveal all to Mr. Darcy, ending Caroline's hopes. Even were Mr. Darcy to learn of his aunt's authorship of the whole deception, he would never have forgiven Caroline her complicity. Lady Catherine will have made certain that Caroline was aware that she had it in her power to ruin her marriage plans."

"An excellent piece of deduction, Miss Bennet," said Colonel Fitzwilliam in admiration. "Your powers of reasoning would do a Bow Street officer proud. And though I am mortified to learn that my own aunt was the author of this utterly repugnant and reprehensible deception, I find myself unwillingly marvelling at her cunning and ingenuity."

"Oh, yes, indeed," conceded Elizabeth, "and the final proof of her guile is that even from the grave, she has succeeded in destroying Miss Bingley's hopes."

"Indeed she has," agreed the colonel. "I learned only yesterday from Darcy that he and Miss Bingley have had an understanding for some time; but, at her suggestion, they resolved to postpone the announcement of their engagement until our aunt had passed away. Darcy considered it to be an indication of Miss Bingley's kindness and consideration; whereas she was, in fact, simply playing for time, waiting for Lady Catherine's not unanticipated demise. The betrothal was announced within two weeks of my aunt's passing. Miss Bingley, being aware of the legacy in Lady Catherine's will, knew that she must continue to pay for Wickham's silence until after she is wed."

"But Lady Catherine must have also made Caroline aware that the legacy would end when Mr. Darcy weds. What did she imagine would happen when the payments to Wickham ceased?" asked Jane.

"They would certainly cease," replied Colonel Fitzwilliam, "for it would not be possible for her to continue the payments after she was married, without my cousin becoming aware of it."

"Yes, that is true," agreed Elizabeth. "Caroline most probably assumed – quite rightly, I imagine – that Wickham would not dare to speak against her once she was Mrs. Darcy, for fear of being challenged to a duel of honour."

"And killed," added the colonel. "Miss Bingley thought that by wedding my cousin as soon as our aunt was gone, she would be safe, but Lady Catherine outwitted her. She appointed Darcy as an executor of her will in October last year – at the very time that the deception began. Her intention is manifest – it was to ensure that upon her death, Darcy would immediately learn of the bizarre legacy to Miss Bingley, which would undoubtedly prompt him to check the banker's records and discover the payments that had already been made to her. Even without the benefit of Mrs. Wickham's report, he would very soon have come to suspect a connection between the payments and Wickham's letter, and would realise that Miss Bingley had been involved with Wickham and his aunt in deceiving him."

"Miss Bennet," said Bingley earnestly. "It grieves me beyond measure that a sister of mine could have behaved so despicably – and to the sister of my own wife! I refuse, henceforth, to admit her into my society, or to ever see her again!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam tied the letters together and rose from his chair. "I must return to Pemberley and inform my cousin of the details that have been pieced together concerning our aunt's despicable scheme. I shall be much surprised if he does not dispatch a second letter to Miss Bingley today – to inform her that he is breaking off the engagement. In that part of her scheme, at least, Lady Catherine has triumphed."

"Oh no, Colonel Fitzwilliam," disagreed Elizabeth, vehemently, "Lady Catherine's victory is entirely comprehensive, for she has unquestionably succeeded in _both_ parts of her scheme – it is all exactly as she intended. All that is now wanting is for Mr. Darcy to offer himself to her daughter, Anne, and then her triumph from the grave will be complete."

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Bennet?" remonstrated the colonel. "Mr. Darcy no longer has the least reason to think ill of you."

"But I have _every_ reason to think ill of him!"

**_Please leave a comment..._**


	11. Darcy's Lament

_**Chapter 11 ~ Darcy's Lament**_

"Indeed, she does have every reason to think ill of me," said Darcy, hanging his head despondently when his cousin arrived at the end of his account of all that had been conjectured and spoken of at Willowbank earlier in the day.

He poured himself a generous brandy before returning to his chair, where he sat staring at the floor. "I shall ride at once to Willowbank and beg her forgiveness."

"If you imagine that she will forgive you so easily, you are mistaken, Darcy. You have offended her pride, and it cannot, I fear, be so quickly – if ever –undone."

"I know it, and I cannot blame her. Yet I must apologise for the pain she has suffered in consequence of my abject stupidity. I deserve nothing less than to be spurned by her, but I must at least be allowed to acknowledge my guilt and state my unreserved contrition."

"She will not see you, Darcy – of that I am certain."

"Then I shall write her a letter," said Darcy, rising from his chair and opening his writing desk. "I shall send it at first light tomorrow. I shall not rest until I have made known to her the depths of my regret."

* * *

The following day, as Darcy was sitting in the library with Colonel Fitzwilliam, a servant entered with a letter for him. It was his letter to Miss Bennet – returned, and unopened.

"My suit is hopeless!" said Darcy, shaking his head dejectedly, slumping down in his chair.

"Your suit?" exclaimed his cousin. "Darcy, you cannot seriously be considering paying Miss Bennet your addresses? It is quite unthinkable that she would accept you after the abominable way you have behaved. Can you not see that your exclusion of her from your society has led to all manner of speculation in the district concerning her character; and some who look up to you, while not comprehending your reasons, blindly follow your behaviour, and likewise snub her?"

"Then I shall hold a ball, here, at Pemberley, in Miss Bennet's honour. It will be an unambiguous acknowledgement of fault; that I was mistaken in my reasons for excluding her from my society. It will be understood by all as a statement of my incontrovertible belief in her respectability. I shall ask Miss Bennet to open the ball by dancing the first set with me."

"You are dreaming, Darcy! Miss Bennet will not come to your ball – much less dance with you! Unless I am very much mistaken, she will refuse all invitations to Pemberley, and endeavour to avoid you as assiduously as you have avoided her. And as to your fanciful idea of a suit – how do you imagine you will pay her your addresses if she rejects your society and returns your letters? But, if somehow you found the opportunity, you would be comprehensively refused – of that I am quite certain."

Darcy sat silently slumped in his chair for some minutes before sighing and muttering, "You are right, damn it! She would refuse me as vehemently as she did in Kent."

"What? What is this, Darcy? Do you mean to tell me that you proposed to Miss Bennet when we were at Rosings Park last year?"

Darcy recounted the agonising details of his haughty and maladroit proposal at Hunsford, and the vigour and angry words with which he had been repulsed.

"Good God, Darcy, it is hardly surprising that you were refused. Miss Bennet was quite correct in characterising your behaviour as insulting and un-gentlemanly – quite without the indignation she quite justly felt at your efforts in separating her sister from Bingley. What on earth can you be thinking, to imagine that her opinion of you might have changed – even had your recent behaviour towards her not been so utterly abominable?"

Darcy outlined the content of the letter he had subsequently written to Miss Bennet, enlightening her concerning Wickham's character, and explaining his reasons for believing that the attachment he had severed between her sister and his friend was not a profound one, on either side. He then revealed the details of his unexpected meeting with Miss Bennet in Derbyshire the previous summer.

"So you think by that time she had forgiven you?"

"Yes, although to what degree, I cannot be certain. When I called upon Miss Bennet and her relatives, with my sister and Bingley, at Lambton, she seemed pleased to receive me, and she was entirely charming to Georgiana. It was much the same when she and her aunt returned the courtesy and called upon my sister here, at Pemberley, the following day. Had it not been for her abrupt departure from Derbyshire when she learned of her sister's elopement, I had hopes that she might very soon have consented to be my wife."

"You meant to pay her your addresses again?"

"Indeed I did. I rode to Lambton with that express intention on the morning that the news of the elopement arrived. I have George Wickham to thank for foiling me."

"You were in love with Miss Bennet for a considerable time then, Darcy?"

"And still I am – more than ever. I have been in love with the lady since we were in Kent – no, earlier yet, since I met her in Hertfordshire, two years ago when I stayed with Bingley at Netherfield Park. And though our aunt's letter did finally persuade me of the truth of Wickham's allegations – that she had lost her character – she never lost my affections; they simply refused to die. If I have treated her abominably, it is because of their strength. Knowing – or at least imaging I knew – what I did about her, and the impossibility of ever making her my wife, it was a torment to set eyes upon her; I could not bear to be in the same room as her.

"Thus I absented myself from Hertfordshire last year when the obligations of friendship demanded my presence there in support of Bingley at the time of his marriage. Though I resolutely determined that I must, at the very least, stay some days at Netherfield Park following the wedding ceremony; having stood up with Bingley in the church, upon exiting, I found myself face to face with Miss Bennet across the aisle. The feelings that were unleashed overcame all of my fine resolve – and I fled Hertfordshire like a cowardly cur. You have no idea of the shame I felt.

"And I fled, once more, before Miss Bennet, when she arrived in town last February, to stay with Bingley and her sister. Then in the summer, when Bingley came to Pemberley to ask my advice concerning the purchase of Willowbank, upon learning that it was to be Miss Bennet's home also, I endeavoured by all manner of low, deceitful means to persuade him not to purchase the property – but fortunately I failed. My behaviour was utterly shameful, and for a time, I truly feared that I might be losing the balance of my mind.

"When later, Miss Bennet settled at Willowbank, I found myself utterly incapable of being in her society. Had my feelings been less, though I would have discouraged my sister from associating with her, I would have tolerated Miss Bennet at Pemberley, and visited Willowbank for the sake of my friendship with Bingley. You have no idea, Fitzwilliam, how I have suffered on account of my untameable feelings for that lady. The only remedy I could think of was to marry; surely that, I prayed, must eventually weaken her hold on my heart."

"And well it might, if you were to marry someone for whom you had genuine affection – but Caroline Bingley?"

Darcy shrugged his shoulders. "I knew her to be eager, and while my feelings for Miss Bennet hold me in their thrall, there seems very little likelihood that genuine affection could arise for any other lady."

"Perhaps it might work the other way, Darcy?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, if Miss Bennet were to marry, all your hopes for her must finally die, and your heart might, in time, become free."

"And were you thinking, perhaps, to offer your services in that capacity, Fitzwilliam?" demanded Darcy dangerously.

"Now, Darcy, calm yourself, and think rationally. I would not venture to entertain this proposal if I believed there was the slightest chance for you to prevail upon Miss Bennet with your suit – but surely you must see, there is not. I must own to having been captivated by the young lady since first meeting her in Kent. However, you know of my circumstances, and that I must marry a woman with a substantial purse. Consequently, I guard my heart well; although I will tell you, it has not been easy where Miss Bennet is concerned."

"Then what has changed? I know our aunt left you a nice little annuity in her will, but it is hardly enough for you to live on – certainly not in the style that becomes the son of an earl."

"You are quite correct, it would require me to greatly curtail my expenditures; but, if she would have me, and be content to live in a modest way, I believe I could live quite happily on so small an amount – if my partner in life were Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Damn you, Fitzwilliam! Damn you!" exploded Darcy, leaping from his chair and pacing back and forth in a fit of jealous rage. "And do you imagine that you would bring her here, to Pemberley, and parade her beneath my nose? I could not bear it! It would drive me crazy!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam was shocked to see Darcy so utterly discomposed. He had not, until this moment, realised the profound depth of his cousin's feelings for Miss Bennet. They were evidently of a different order than his own. He began to seriously fear for Darcy's wellbeing.

"Calm yourself, Darcy, it was mere speculation. Given the strength of your feelings, and our relationship, I shall withdraw from the field – but I warn you: there may be others who will not."

"Such as Netherby?" snapped Darcy.

"Precisely. Darcy, can you not see that your situation is wholly untenable. If not Lord Netherby, sooner or later some other suitor will find favour with Miss Bennet, and then your torment will be great indeed. You must strive to break the hold of this obsession – for it is nothing less than that: an obsession. Speaking of Lord Netherby, perhaps you might consider his sister, Victoria. She is both charming and intelligent, and would make you a far superior wife to Caroline Bingley."

"It is no good, Fitzwilliam; for the past two years, I have been entirely unable to think of any other lady. But if you hold so high an opinion of Miss Netherby, perhaps you might think of her for yourself. I believe she has a substantial fortune. You would have no need of exercising economies."

"She is indeed an amiable and superior lady; and yes, the notion did cross my mind when she was recently at Pemberley. However, I must confess that my attentions were so diverted by Miss Bennet, whose society, unlike yourself, I was able to enjoy, that I took very little notice of Miss Netherby."

Darcy ruminated silently for some time, shaking his head. Then looking up imploringly at his cousin, he asked, "How can I ever explain to Miss Bennet that high regard in which we all held our aunt, which made it impossible for me to doubt her word – much less believe that she would perjure herself so shamelessly, and conspire to cause others do likewise. Tell me honestly, Fitzwilliam, had you received that letter from Lady Catherine, would you have doubted its veracity?"

The colonel thought for some time before replying. "No, probably not. As a rational man, my good opinions of a young lady, with whom my acquaintance was as circumscribed as yours with Miss Bennet, could hardly have overturned a lifetime's belief in the unimpeachable uprightness of our aunt."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Darcy. "If she would but give me a chance to explain, I might, perhaps, make her see that no rational man, in my place, could have believed otherwise!"

"In the unlikely event of your gaining such an opportunity," cautioned his cousin, "I am not at all certain that such an argument would advance your cause."

"Why ever not? Miss Bennet is highly intelligent."

"She might very well agree with you concerning what a rational man would believe – and yet wonder if one in love might believe otherwise."

* * *

Jane and Elizabeth were seated in the morning room, embroidering some tiny garments for Lydia's daughter, Eleanor, of whose birth they had only recently learnt. Hearing the sound of an approaching coach, Elizabeth quickly rose and looked through the window. She feared that having his letter returned, unopened, the day before, Mr. Darcy might come himself, and she did not wish to speak with him. Seeing Georgiana alight from the carriage, she breathed a sigh of relief, but then it occurred to her that she might have been sent by her brother to plead his case.

"It is Miss Darcy," she said, turning towards Jane. "I fear that one or other of us may suffer some embarrassment should the discussion venture on certain subjects."

"Do you wish me to excuse myself from the room on some pretext or other?" asked Jane.

"I sincerely hope it will not come to that – but if it should, I shall give you a glance," replied Elizabeth, returning to her seat as the servant entered to announce Miss Darcy, upon whose entry she immediately stood again, together with Jane, to welcome their visitor.

"How lovely to see you again," said Jane warmly, when they were all of them seated.

Georgiana appeared plainly embarrassed.

Elizabeth attempted to put her at her ease by commenting on how much quieter things must be at Pemberley with all their guests gone.

"Yes, I shall miss the lively company of Miss Netherby and her brother," said Georgiana, but her face immediately coloured as she realised that her listeners might understand her to have intended to imply a preference for the gentleman. To cover her discomfort, she immediately added, "And Miss Bingley is returned to London, to make preparations and purchases for the forthcoming marriage."

"Oh," began Jane, "has your brother not…" but she stopped herself and blushed, realising that Miss Darcy could not be in her brother's confidences regarding recent information.

"You find us industriously at our sewing and embroidery," said Elizabeth quickly, attempting to turn the conversation. "We have much to do, for we learned only yesterday, in a letter from our mother, that we are aunts."

"Congratulations," said Georgiana, before suddenly blushing and looking even more embarrassed. Elizabeth could have kicked herself, for Georgiana, knowing that Mary was only very recently married to Mr. Tiddlington, would have straightaway realised that the mother of the baby must be Lydia – and the father, George Wickham.

"Mrs. Bingley," began Georgiana, endeavouring to regain her composure, "I have come to invite you and Mr. Bingley, and Miss Bennet, also," she said turning nervously towards Elizabeth, evidently feeling some confusion, "to dine with us at Pemberley tomorrow, if you are not otherwise engaged."

There was awkward silence as Jane looked at Elizabeth enquiringly. Elizabeth shook her head minutely, to indicate that she did not wish to be of the party, and then glanced meaningfully towards the door.

"Thank you, Georgiana. Charles and I would be delighted to dine with you," said Jane. Then rising from her seat, she added, "Please excuse me, for I have just this moment remembered some urgent business which requires my immediate attention."

Jane's exit was followed by an awkward silence. At length, Elizabeth expressed her delight at seeing Georgiana again and the happiness she shared with Jane at again receiving her at Willowbank. Elizabeth was most curious to know what explanation her brother had offered for permitting such a visit, or for allowing her to be invited to dine at Pemberley.

"You are doubtless surprised to see me here today," said Georgiana in evident confusion.

Elizabeth smiled encouragingly.

"Miss Bennet, my brother has confessed to me that he has made a terrible mistake, and that, contrary to everything he had previously been led to believe, your character is in every way unimpeachable, and your respectability unquestionable. He is most unhappy and remorseful for allowing himself to be deceived by others, but said it would be too painful to attempt to provide me with any further explanation at the present time. He said only that you are welcome to come to Pemberley at any time, and that I may visit Willowbank as I wish, and to accept invitations to dine here, and on his behalf, as well."

"You must be exceedingly puzzled at this about face, my dear," said Elizabeth sympathetically.

"Indeed I am, although not with the same degree of pain and bewilderment I felt at your previous exclusion, which upset me greatly. Perhaps, in time, my brother will tell me everything – well, not everything, but at least as much as he wishes me to know," said Georgiana wryly. "I know my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, rode here several times in the last few days, and he is often engaged with by brother, conversing in the library – but they do not confide in me. I know they wish only to protect me; however, I fear that they still consider me a child – but I am not! Do you know what it is all about, Miss Bennet?"

"Indeed I do; but you must realise that it would be improper for me to speak of it."

"Yet it concerns you, most of all," said Georgiana. "It is you who have been wronged by this whole affair. Surely it is your right to present information to a dear friend that clears your name of this surreptitious slander."

"Truly, I sympathise with you, Georgiana, but…."

"Please, Elizabeth. If you are afraid of angering my brother, I think he would be relived at being spared the trouble and discomfort of telling me himself. I do not think he would be angry with you."

"I am fearful of neither his anger nor his disapprobation," replied Elizabeth scornfully. "Since your life, too, has been touched by this affair, and you entreat me so fervently, I shall tell you. However, I must warn you that I may very likely say more than your brother would consider fit for your ears – including information that may well cause you to think ill of a near relative. I am also obliged to mention a name which I know must cause you pain."

"Whose?" asked Georgiana.

"George Wickham's."

"Oh," gasped Georgiana, "I was not aware that you knew anything… of the matter."

"When I was in Kent last year, your brother felt himself obliged to set my opinions straight concerning that gentleman. I must declare myself indebted to him for the service, for I had been grossly misled concerning Mr. Wickham's character. The information imparted by your brother, concerning Mr. Wickham, included the attempted elopement at Ramsgate."

Georgiana turned bright red. Elizabeth, who sat beside her, took her hand and consoled her. "You must not blame yourself for being taken in by so plausible a charlatan, at the tender age of fifteen. I, too, was deceived by him – although not in the same way – and I was twenty years of age. Oh, that I had warned all my acquaintance in Hertfordshire about him, I might have saved my poor sister, Lydia, a great deal of misfortune. You have heard about it, no doubt."

"Yes," whispered Georgiana, looking at the floor. Then looking up imploringly, she said, "Have you told anyone of what my brother revealed?"

"Of the planned elopement? Only Jane, for we are so very close that we must tell the other everything; but you may rely upon her discretion – she will tell not a soul, and neither shall I."

Georgiana smiled gratefully. "Please tell me all that you wish to say, and do not endeavour to spare my sensibilities or feelings, for I am no longer a child – although my brother has yet to make that discovery."

Elizabeth did as she was bid, and by the time she was finished, Georgiana was utterly shocked and silent, simply shaking her head from side to side as if wishing to deny it all, tears escaping from her eyes. Finally she spoke. "It is like the plot of some fantastical novel, which the reader can scarce believe to be credible. It quite shakes one's faith in the world, for it transpires that nothing is at all the way it appeared to be – my aunt, Lady Catherine, most especially. It is as if she were a completely different person from the face she presented to society; I am shocked beyond belief at her evil. But my tears are not for my aunt," said Georgiana, drying her eyes. "They are for you, and all that you have had to suffer, for so long, and so unjustly. How ever have you been able to bear it, dear Elizabeth?"

"By knowing that my sister and brother, and all my near acquaintances, and all of those who continued to come to Willowbank, refused to accept that I could have done wrong."

"And though I was forbidden to see you, I never wavered in my faith in your goodness," said Georgiana earnestly.

"I know, my dear. It brought me great joy when my sister conveyed your message that you unreservedly believed in me."

"I am pleased at one thing; I no longer need dread Miss Bingley becoming my sister," said Georgiana; but then her smile faded. "Knowing how abominably my brother has behaved towards you, how he allowed himself to be persuaded by the lies of our aunt, I must fear that my fondest wish can now never come to pass. Will you ever be able to forgive him, do you think?" entreated Georgiana. "Is it possible?"

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "I hope, in time, that your brother and I may feel comfortable enough in each other's society that it will no longer be a trial for me to dine at Pemberley, or when he accepts my sister's invitations to dine at Willowbank. Regrettably, for myself, at least, that time is not yet come. I must therefore decline your kind invitation to dine at Pemberley tomorrow."

"Oh," said Georgiana.

"As to the relationship to which you alluded, surely you must see that after all that has passed, it is quite impossible for me. And it is very likely the same for your brother. Indeed, I think it somewhat presumptuous of you to even assume that he would wish for such an intimacy. Although I may, in time, no longer be snubbed by those who look up to your brother, local society – being entirely ignorant of your brother's reasons for having once thought ill of me – may hold lingering suspicions concerning my respectability. Though I shall regain my name, there will always be whispers. That is hardly the kind of social approbation that a man with so keen a sense of honour as your brother would wish to have attached to his wife."

Georgiana looked downcast and forlorn.

"Do not despair," said Elizabeth, taking her hand. "Though we may not be sisters, we can still love each other as well as sisters, and remain always the best of friends. I look forward to seeing much of you when I return from Hertfordshire."

"You are not going away – just when I may again enjoy your society?"

"I think I must. It is best that I leave the neighbourhood for a time, until my feelings and resentment have subsided somewhat. And I wish very much to be in Longbourn with my little niece and my family – most especially my father, who misses me greatly. I travel first to Nottinghamshire, where I am invited to stay at Fendalton Park."

"Fendalton Park?" exclaimed Georgiana, unable to hide her disquiet.

"Yes, Victoria Netherby has invited me to stay, and it is not much out of my way."

"Do you perhaps comprehend something more in her invitation than simply her desire to enjoy your amiable company?" asked Georgiana apprehensively.

"If you are alluding to the possibility that it is her intention to promote a match between her brother and myself, please do not make yourself uneasy. Jane has made mention of your hopes concerning Lord Netherby, and I would never do anything that would stand in the way of your happiness," Elizabeth reassured her.

"No, you misunderstand me," replied Georgiana quickly. "Though I have the highest opinion of Lord Netherby, and am well aware of my brother's aspirations, it was only the distressing prospect of living under the dominion of Caroline Bingley that compelled me to consider marriage. Thankfully, I now find myself free from the threat of that dreadful fate; and thus the idea of marriage, even to Lord Netherby, has quite lost its attraction."

"Are you quite certain?"

"Oh, yes; and I could not leave my dear brother alone now; for he has been so despondent and low in spirits these past few days. Indeed, I shall not think of marriage until he is married – and who can say when that might be? No, my concern at what I suspect to be Miss Netherby's designs is on account of that happy dream in which I once allowed myself to indulge; that you would one day be my sister, and we would all live together so happily at Pemberley. That cherished dream, which was shaken by my brother's inexplicable behaviour to you, and then shattered by his betrothal to Miss Bingley, has sprouted afresh in my heart, now that I learn that the marriage I dreaded is not to be."

"Georgiana, I implore you, please do not dream of that which is impossible."

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	12. Fendalton Park

_**Chapter 12 ~ Fendalton Park**_

Fendalton Park was a most agreeable estate. It was considerably larger than Willowbank – on a similar scale to Pemberley. Aside from its beautiful grounds and rose garden, it was renowned for its collection of Grecian vases and statues, and the picture gallery, which contained one of the finest private collections of Renaissance paintings in all of England. Nonetheless, in Elizabeth's estimation at least, neither house nor grounds were quite the equal of Pemberley.

Victoria and Lord Netherby were much relieved to learn that Elizabeth's ostracism at Pemberley, and hence the local society, was ended. However, all she would say by way of explanation was that Mr. Darcy had acknowledged that all his former opinions were entirely wrong, and based upon an iniquitous deception.

"Which, doubtless, was perpetrated with the intention of defaming your character," said Lord Netherby. "Are you aware of the identity of the perpetrators, and what was their motive? I must tell you that I have my suspicions."

"I would prefer not to speak further on the subject," said Elizabeth, looking away and directing her gaze at a beautiful vase.

"No, of course not," replied Miss Netherby, sympathetically.

"We have just received some most surprising news, Miss Bennet," said her brother. "It seems that Darcy has broken off his engagement with Miss Caroline Bingley. Although, perhaps _under the circumstances_, it is not so very surprising? I suspect that Miss Bingley will not be seeking justice through the courts," he added with the hint of a smile.

Elizabeth remained silent.

"Edward!" admonished his sister, "We will respect Miss Bennet's wishes in the matter."

"But of course, my dear," replied Lord Netherby innocently. "The only surprising thing is that Darcy could have wished to marry the lady at all; I had always thought him to have far better taste," he said, smiling at Elizabeth.

* * *

Elizabeth greatly enjoyed her stay at Fendalton Park, and in particular the society of her hostess. Victoria Netherby was considered to be somewhat eccentric; a characteristic which, while tolerated in an older gentleman or lady of wealth, was frowned upon in a young lady – particularly if she wished to find a husband. Although she played the pianoforte and sang beautifully, it was only with the greatest difficulty that her mother, Lady Netherby, could prevail upon her daughter to practice seriously, or to exhibit her talents before guests. Victoria was a voracious reader on every subject, and her great ambition was to write a novel.

"I know I am not beautiful," she confided in Elizabeth one day, "and it may surprise you to learn that it bothers me not in the least."

"How can you say that?" exclaimed Elizabeth. "You are far from plain – everyone must agree that you are a very handsome lady!"

"I do not care what _everyone_ thinks! I decided long ago that I do not need to marry if I do not wish to. I have a fine fortune to live upon, and my dear brother, Edward, will be very happy to have me live all my life here, at Fendalton Park. I must ensure, of course, that he chooses a wife whose society pleases me," said Victoria, smiling pointedly at Elizabeth, who could not mistake her meaning.

"I must warn you, Victoria, that I feel much the same way as you, concerning marriage. Of course, I have no fortune, but luckily I shall always have a home at Willowbank."

"But that is different, Elizabeth. Perhaps you only speak so because you have been disappointed and disillusioned by one gentleman, and thus you have lost faith in the species, generally?"

Elizabeth blushed. _Could Lord Netherby have recounted his drunken conversation with Mr Darcy at their London club to his sister?_ she wondered. _Surely not!_ However, it was evident that he and his sister were very close – and perhaps shared confidences in much the same way as Jane and herself. At the very least, Lord Netherby had probably hinted at his friend's former feelings for herself; and Victoria, being a most astute observer with a penetrating mind, likely suspected that they were returned in some measure.

"You are far too beautiful to hope that you might be left alone, unmarried," said Victoria. "I think that in time, you will overcome your present feelings, and may indeed find love elsewhere."

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "The first part of what you say is true; I have been disappointed and disillusioned. Consequently, I am resolved to never again place my faith in a gentleman, or my happiness in the hands of another. It is safer and wiser to be alone, and in control of one's destiny… even though it be a mediocre and unpromising one."

"So my brother's hopes are in vain?"

"Do not speak so. Your brother entertains no such hopes; I am certain. He enjoys my company, as I enjoy his; but he is no more in love with me than am I with him."

"No, perhaps he is not in love – or at least not yet; for he has not known you so very long. But I must tell you, I have never before seen him develop so strong a preference for a lady – and upon so brief an acquaintance. I would not be in the least surprised if, in time, he comes to love you. Indeed, I think he is already well on the way; and I sincerely believe that he could make you a very happy woman."

Elizabeth felt distressed. "Victoria, I beg you, please discourage your brother from thinking of me in that way. I like him very much, and I do not wish to disappoint him."

Victoria nodded and sighed in resignation. "I shall do as you request; and if my brother is disheartened, my mother, at least, will be pleased."

"Oh?"

"Mother, as you may imagine, pays careful attention to my brother's preferences with regard to young ladies. She is well aware of his partiality for you. Please do not mistake my meaning, Elizabeth – my mother has the highest regard for you, and were it not for a particular long-cherished wish, I am certain she would be delighted to have you as a daughter."

"You are referring to Miss Darcy, I think?"

"Exactly! Although I was not in need of prompting when I recently invited Miss Darcy to stay at Fendalton Park, I must tell you that I did so expressly at the request my mother. Make no mistake about it, I, too, would be delighted at the match, and to have Georgiana for a sister – almost as delighted as I would be if it were you," said Victoria, smiling affectionately at Elizabeth.

"Lord Netherby, I think, is an independent-minded young man who will marry to please himself," reflected Elizabeth.

"Oh yes, although he would also, I am certain, take into account the feelings of his mother and sister who must share Fendalton Park with the lady of his choice. But you must not believe that his partiality for you is on my account…"

"No, of course," exclaimed Elizabeth, alarmed at the turn of the conversation.

"Is there someone else, perhaps?" asked Victoria.

"I cannot think who you might mean," said Elizabeth blushing and feeling confused.

"I could not fail to notice on the several occasions when we dined at Willowbank that Colonel Fitzwilliam showed a marked attention and gallantry towards you."

Elizabeth smiled and recounted the colonel's comments to her in Kent, concerning the matrimonial constraints under which he found himself.

"I understand that Colonel Fitzwilliam has received a pretty legacy in the will of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. It may not be enough to live upon in the style to which he is accustomed, but it is very likely enough to make do with, if he were determined to marry a lady without fortune," said Victoria meaningfully.

"I was not aware of the legacy; but I must tell you that I have found not the slightest change in his behaviour towards me, which has always been most courteous and amiable. Please believe me when I tell you that my heart is presently unengaged – and I think there is very little likelihood of it ever becoming so."

Looking penetratingly at her guest, Victoria said, "I suspect that your heart is not yet entirely _disengaged_; although those former feelings of favour presently lie buried beneath stronger emotions of anger, indignation, and resentment."

Elizabeth became so visibly discomposed at her remarks that Victoria immediately regretted them, and sought to turn the conversation. "I am pleased that you have no designs on Colonel Fitzwilliam, for it is entirely possible that I may decide to marry him."

This had the desired effect; Elizabeth was stunned. "Do you expect him to pay you his addresses? Do you love him?"

"No, but I think I very likely could come to love him. He is an intelligent, sensible, well-read man. His opinions all please me, and his character is open, honest, and upright. I have yet to meet a gentleman whom I believe would suit me better. As I told you earlier, I may in all likelihood decide not to marry. However, should I decide in favour of matrimony, Colonel Fitzwilliam would do me very nicely," said Victoria matter-of-factly.

"Do you believe the colonel wishes to marry you?" asked Elizabeth, perplexed.

"No; on the contrary, it is my belief that he does not wish to marry me that makes him so acceptable! Poor Elizabeth, I see that I am causing you some confusion. What first caused me to question the wisdom of marriage was the fear that I would be deceived by an insincere fortune hunter – and believe me, there are many of them about. If Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared eager to court me, then I would naturally suspect him of being one, and suppose that his primary interest was in my fortune; and so consequently I could not consider him."

Elizabeth smiled. "I comprehend your difficulty; it is one that my sisters and I have been spared. However, what I do not understand is that if Colonel Fitzwilliam does not wish to marry you, how do you imagine that you might bring it about?"

"Oh, that may not be altogether too difficult a task. He loves music and is also fond of literature. I intend to ask my brother to invite the colonel to remain as his guest for some weeks after the ball. That will provide ample opportunity for me to determine if he might make me a good husband – and to ascertain the degree to which I am able to engage his attentions – should the time come when I decide in favour of matrimony."

"There is to be a ball?" asked Elizabeth.

"But of course, my dear - did I not promise you one when we were staying in Derbyshire? You must remember! I said it was to make up for – well, let us not speak of him… ah, but I fear we must. You see, I could not avoid inviting Mr. Darcy, since he is such a good friend of my brother. I hope it will not distress you too much."

"Is Mr. Darcy to stay here, at Fendalton Park?" asked Elizabeth apprehensively.

"Naturally, I have invited all the guests who have some distance to travel to stay with us overnight – and longer if they so desire. In her reply, Miss Darcy accepted my special invitation to her to stay on for some weeks as my guest, but her brother, she said, would remain at Fendalton Park but a day or two."

"When is the ball to be held?"

"Ten days from now."

"I imagine I can endure Mr. Darcy's presence at the ball; but I shall leave for Hertfordshire the very next day."

"Elizabeth, no! I will not hear of it! You must not cut short your visit on his account."

"By the day of the ball, I will have enjoyed your kind hospitality far longer than had been my original intention. I am anxious to be at Longbourn and see my little niece."

* * *

But for the prospect of the approaching ball – or more to the point, of seeing Mr. Darcy – the remainder of Elizabeth's stay at Fendalton Park might have been most pleasant. Lady Netherby, reassured by her daughter that Elizabeth did not stand in the way of her fond hopes for her son, was noticeably warmer towards her. If Elizabeth caught Lord Netherby on occasion looking at her with something almost akin to wistful longing, his behaviour was otherwise perfectly amiable and charming.

In the evenings, Lord Netherby and Victoria sang, and on occasion prevailed upon Elizabeth to join them. Lord Netherby often read poetry. His taste was excellent, and his reading voice superb. At other times the three young people amused themselves, and Lady Netherby, by reading favourite scenes together from Shakespeare's plays. Elizabeth found reading Juliet to Lord Netherby's fervent rendition of Romeo, both alarming and moving. She was most relieved when it was over.

* * *

Elizabeth was delighted at the arrival of Jane and Charles, and also Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam on the day of the ball. She saw nothing of Mr. Darcy, who appeared to be keeping out of her way. Jane and Bingley were to spend two or three days at Fendalton Park before returning to Cheshire, and Elizabeth regretted that she was to leave the next day.

Lord Netherby chose to please himself, rather than his mother, by requesting Elizabeth to open the ball with him. Mr. Darcy did not dare ask her to dance, and in fact, he danced only three sets; one with his sister, one with his hostess, Victoria Netherby, and one with Jane. Still, it was impossible to avoid him entirely, as there was only one set, and in several of the dances partners were changed. Thus did Elizabeth find herself unavoidably dancing with Mr. Darcy for short periods.

She attempted to avert her gaze, but it seemed inexorably to return to his face, and each time he was looking directly at her with a sad, sombre, imploring expression. In one of those moments when their eyes met, Mr. Darcy surprised Elizabeth by addressing her. "Miss Bennet, though I know my behaviour to you has been utterly inexcusable, I beg you to at least allow me to voice my profound and heartfelt remorse." Elizabeth looked away the moment he began speaking, and was greatly relieved that Mr. Darcy was obliged to move on to the next lady.

The second time she found herself dancing with him, Elizabeth managed to keep her gaze averted; however this was insufficient to prevent him from speaking. "I fully comprehend your anger and indignation, but I pray, Miss Bennet, that a day may come when you are able to accept my most sincere and contrite apologies." Luckily, his speech was cut short when he was forced to change partners.

In the third and final encounter, Darcy spoke again, though once more Elizabeth refused to look at him. "I have been given to understand, Miss Bennet, that you are bent on leaving Fendalton Park tomorrow. I can well imagine that your hasty departure, when you have friends just today arrived, must be on account of your wish to avoid me. I deeply regret that I have in the past most unjustly deprived you of the society of others. I am, therefore, resolved to return to Pemberley tomorrow at first light. I earnestly hope that you will consequently amend your plans."

Without looking up, Elizabeth, quite certain that Mr. Darcy must be looking at her, nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement. His gesture was not unfelt, and Elizabeth could not but be touched by the deep sadness and contrition evident in his voice.

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	13. Elizabeth's Lament

_**Chapter 13 ~ Elizabeth's Lament**_

Elizabeth was happy to be back at Longbourn. If it sometimes felt a little dull and lacking in excitement, it was a welcome respite from the emotional turmoil and social complications of the past several months. The home scene was very different from when she had last lived at length in Longbourn with her sisters Mary and Kitty. Mary – now Mrs. Tiddlington – was happily installed at the parsonage, and Lydia was once more at Longbourn, now the mother of a delightful little girl, Eleanor.

"Are you not astounded, Lizzy, at the change in Lydia?" her father inquired one afternoon in his library, a week after her return.

"Indeed, Father, I am. The alteration is astonishing, and entirely for the better. Lydia is totally devoted to little Eleanor, and has become quieter and more serious – not to mention sober. When my mother or a visiting lady offers advice concerning some efficacious method of managing the baby, she listens attentively. One cannot but admire the way in which she strives so diligently, and with good sense, to do what is best for her child. I never would have believed that motherhood could have wrought such a change in a person."

Mr. Bennet nodded in agreement, and with a wry smile, he said, "Sadly it was not the case with your mother, and so I am vastly surprised that it should be so for her daughter. And Kitty, who has forever been influenced by her younger sister, has likewise become somewhat more serious and sensible. Even Mary is no longer quite so blinkered and silly as heretofore – although that is doubtless due to the influence of her husband, and perhaps also, the responsibilities of running a household. Yes, I can, in all honesty, declare myself pleased with all my daughters."

"It is indeed fortunate, Father, that Lydia is by nature confident and jolly, for it seems that she may face the daunting task of raising her child alone."

"Yes, what you say is most probable. From what I can make out, though she has written to Wickham repeatedly – both before and after the birth of the child – she has received not a single letter from the scoundrel. It would appear that he has determined to abandon both wife and child."

* * *

Elizabeth loved helping Lydia with little Eleanor and developed a closeness with her younger sister which she could not have imagined possible. One day, Lydia asked Elizabeth if she had learned anything further with regard to the business she had observed between her husband and Miss Bingley in London. Elizabeth revealed the gist of Wickham's letter to Mr. Darcy, and that it had been written at Miss Bingley's behest.

"Mr. Darcy refused, point blank, to pay Wickham, and promised, instead, to call him out if he put about the lies contained in his letter. Wickham then threatened to reveal the whole deceit to Mr. Darcy unless Caroline Bingley paid him to keep his silence."

Elizabeth chose not to reveal Lady Catherine de Bourgh's part in the scheme, nor anything of the letters that Darcy received from Mr. Collins or his aunt. Nor did she wish to disclose the abominable way in which Mr. Darcy had subsequently behaved towards her; it all being entirely unknown in Hertfordshire.

"How shocking! Although, I must tell you that nothing can any longer surprise me concerning Wickham. I know it is a terrible thing to say, Lizzy, but I wish that Mr. Darcy _had_ challenged Wickham to a duel. Oh, how could I have been so foolish to believe that I would be happy with such a selfish, dishonest man?"

"Do not blame yourself, Lydia. George Wickham is a most plausible deceiver; almost every lady in Meryton was taken in by him – myself included."

"But only I was foolish enough to elope with him," said Lydia, remorsefully.

"Lydia, my dear, I have a confession I must make. Before you went off to Brighton with the officers last year, I learnt the truth about Wickham's character, but because the story was revealed to me in confidence, and concerned another young lady, I did not feel authorised to make it known. So you see, it was my fault, Lydia; had I told you what I knew of Wickham you would never have been deceived into eloping with him."

"Do not blame yourself, it was my own stupidity; no one else is to blame but me. Lizzy, this account you heard of Wickham, was it perchance from Mr. Darcy that you heard it?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"Mr. Darcy seems to know a great deal about Wickham, and though Wickham hates him and is forever flaming his character, he is nevertheless very wary of him. Does this information you heard from Mr. Darcy perhaps explain why he spent so much money settling Wickham's debts and purchasing him a commission in the regulars?"

"Yes, it does. Mr. Darcy believed that had he made public what he knew of Wickham, no respectable young lady could possibly have been deceived by him. He felt responsible for your elopement. When he learned of it, he immediately set out for London to find Wickham, and then bribed him to marry you."

"Was it done just for me, Lizzy?" asked Lydia with a curious smile.

"What do you mean?" asked Elizabeth quickly.

"Well, from what you told me of Wickham's letter, Caroline Bingley wished to defame you in Mr. Darcy's eyes. Obviously she wants to marry him, and must have somehow come to believe that he might prefer to marry you instead."

Elizabeth did not wish to reveal all the details of her long and painful history with Mr. Darcy. Though Lydia's character was much improved, Elizabeth was not certain that she could rely upon her younger sister's discretion, and the last thing she wanted was for any of it to get back to her mother, who disliked Mr. Darcy with a passion, and would seize upon his cruel and unjust treatment of her daughter to flame him endlessly; there would be no peace, and very soon, the whole neighbourhood would know it all.

"Caroline Bingley has, I believe, a very jealous nature," replied Elizabeth. "I imagine that Mr. Darcy asking me to dance at the Netherfield ball was probably sufficient reason for her to imagine me as a competitor."

* * *

On her previous visit to Longbourn, in June, Elizabeth had cleverly avoided her mother's matrimonial campaigning on her behalf by hinting that she had met a number of eligible young gentlemen in London, which had the desired effect of allowing Mrs. Bennet to persuade herself that a proposal must be imminent.

Unfortunately, it now being six months since she was in London, without receiving a single offer of marriage, her mother decided that it was time to take matters in hand herself.

"It is a pity, Lizzy," she remarked as the two of them sat together one day, "that you did not return to Longbourn several weeks earlier, when your Uncle Phillips first introduced his new law clerk, Jonathon Chester, to us. I am certain that he must have preferred you to your sister Kitty – and I would naturally have directed his interest towards you, being the eldest – but as it was, there was only Kitty, and he is a most eligible young man with a most promising future, according to your uncle."

Elizabeth had met Mr. Chester at her Aunt Phillip's house, and thought him a very agreeable and well-favoured young man. What impressed her most of all, was his steadiness and good sense. Had it not been for Kitty's recent improvements, on account of Lydia, Mr. Chester might have found her sister a little too foolish for his taste. "I am very pleased on Kitty's account; he is a fine young man, and she seems well pleased with him," replied Elizabeth.

"But it shall be most vexing to have your three younger sisters all married before you. If you are not careful, Lizzy, people will begin to speak of you as an old maid."

"But, Mamma, I am but two-and-twenty!"

"Nevertheless, it would not be right to have all your younger sisters married first. I know – perhaps it is not too late. You must put on that lovely pink muslin gown you received from Jane; for Mr. Chester is invited to dine with us today. I will seat him beside you at the table, instead of your sister – surely he must see that Kitty is nothing compared to you."

"Mother!" exclaimed Elizabeth, rising to her feet in distress. "I will not hear of it! I am not interested in Mr. Chester – not in the least bit – and Kitty is a fair way to being in love with him! Promise me that you will do nothing of the kind – or I shall leave Longbourn immediately!"

"Oh, very well, Lizzy; if you insist upon being an old maid, there is nothing I can do to help you – but it is most provoking. All that beauty for nothing!"

* * *

Late one morning, as Elizabeth was sitting in the parlour with her mother, Kitty, and Lydia – who was cradling little Eleanor in her arms – the sound of a carriage was heard. Kitty rose from her chair and looked out the window; but the carriage, which struck her as rather fashionable, was unfamiliar, and its occupants had already alighted and entered the house, thus denying her a glimpse of them.

"Who can it be?" asked Mrs. Bennet, straightening her cap and quickly taking up her sewing, "I am not expecting visitors today, and it is rather late to be calling. Lydia, my dear, take the baby upstairs. People who travel in fashionable carriages and think nothing of calling at whatever hour they please, are very likely persons of rank and importance; and not accustomed to the presence of an infant in the parlour."

Lydia rose with the baby in her arms, but before she could leave, the door opened and Hill announced, "Mr. Darcy, ma'am."

Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and Kitty rose to their feet in astonishment and curtsied, together with Lydia. Mrs. Bennet was speechless; whatever did that awful, arrogant, unpleasant Mr. Darcy mean by calling upon her? What could the odious man be wanting?

Elizabeth's emotions were in such a flurry at this inexplicable visit that she found herself quite unable to speak. When she briefly allowed herself to look in Mr. Darcy's direction, he appeared equally ill at ease and embarrassed. They were all of them so discomfited, that for some moments, they all stood staring at the floor.

Finally, Mr. Darcy, aware that it was incumbent upon himself to offer some explanation for his unexpected visit, addressed Mrs. Bennet. "I would be most obliged, madam, if I may be permitted to speak privately with your daughter."

Mrs. Bennet was dumbfounded. To which of her three daughters was he referring? She could not imagine what possible business he could have with any of them – let alone the need of a private conversation!

It dawned upon Mr. Darcy that he had failed to be explicit, and he quickly added, "If Mrs. Wickham would do me the honour."

Mrs. Bennet stared unmoving and uncomprehendingly at Mr. Darcy for some moments until Elizabeth, recovering herself, approached Lydia and gently took the baby from her arms. This had the desired affect upon her mother and Kitty, who joined her in wordlessly retreating from the room.

They repaired to Mrs. Bennet's upstairs sitting-room where her mother gave voice to her considerable dislike of the man – and what on earth could he be thinking of, arriving unwanted and uninvited upon her doorstep in so extraordinary a manner? When she was finished with his character she began speculating wildly upon what could be the meaning of his astonishing request for a private conversation with Lydia; for when a gentleman makes such a request with regard to a lady it is generally assumed that his intention is to pay her his addresses – did he not know that Lydia already had a husband?

Elizabeth had superior information to her mother and sister upon which to conjecture the meaning of Mr. Darcy's unexpected arrival, but she chose not to give voice to her meditations. _It must concern George Wickham_, she surmised, _for Mr. Darcy could have no other concern in common with my sister. What has Wickham done that would cause Mr. Darcy to come all the way to Longbourn?_ she wondered.

_Of course! Wickham will not have received the quarterly payment of one hundred and fifty pounds, that was due in October; for Caroline Bingley no longer has reason to continue paying him, now that Mr. Darcy is aware of the whole deception – she will have kept it herself! Wickham was doubtless desperate for money, and so attempted to extort it from Mr. Darcy… who will have made good his previous promise to challenge Wickham to a duel._

_My God! _gasped Elizabeth. _He must have killed him! And he has come to Longbourn to inform Wickham's widow; and to express his condolences and regrets – unaware of how entirely unnecessary such a declaration would be, for Lydia will be delighted._

However, in those awkward few moments between Mr. Darcy entering the parlour and the surprising revelation of his desire to speak privately with Lydia, an entirely different idea had formed in Elizabeth's mind. She felt certain that the object of his visit must be herself – there seemed no other rational explanation – and his purpose, in coming all the way to Longbourn, could only have been to pay her his addresses. In that brief moment of confusion, Elizabeth felt outraged at his audacity in believing that he could have been so easily and quickly forgiven – the presumptuous, arrogant man! It showed not the least consideration of her feelings!

But now, realising that his purpose in coming to Longbourn was in fact to speak with Lydia, Elizabeth found herself feeling something akin to disappointment, and not a little jealousy towards her younger sister, who was presently engaged in conversation with him. Her mother's endless babble became unbearable, and she wished to be alone. Handing little Eleanor to Kitty, she said, "I am in need of fresh air, Mamma; I shall take a turn in the garden."

As she strolled along the path, Elizabeth reflected on her reaction upon first seeing Mr. Darcy. How could she have been foolish enough to believe that he had come to pay her his addresses? Quite aside from the arrogant presumption and lack of consideration for her feelings it must imply on his part, upon what evidence could she have possibly construed the notion that he might still wish to marry her? For indeed there was none.

In truth, she had very little idea of what were Mr. Darcy's feelings for her – which was hardly surprising, as it must be fourteen months, she calculated, since they had last conversed. Yes, it was in September the year before, when Mr. Darcy came to Longbourn with Bingley, for a very brief morning visit and then again to dine. They scarcely spoke with each other on either occasion; it had all been most awkward and unsatisfactory. She had to go back a further two months to her time in Derbyshire with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to recall the last time that she and Darcy had really engaged in conversation. She had, at that time, come to believe that he still loved her and indeed was intent on paying her his addresses.

But that was all of sixteen months ago, and so much had occurred since. There was Lydia's elopement, which at first seemed certain to sink all her hopes. When later she received her Aunt Gardiner's letter and learned what Mr. Darcy had done for her sister, and of her aunt's understanding of his true motivation, she began to believe that his regard for her had remained constant. Her subsequent attempts at forming a better understanding of what were his feelings for her, during those two visits to Longbourn in September, came to naught, as neither provided an opportunity of engaging him in conversation; and his behaviour had been so awkward and unfathomable.

Then Lady Catherine's wicked deception had been executed, and for the past twelvemonth Darcy had believed the lies of his aunt, and imagined her to be unchaste and disreputable. That he had allowed himself to be thus persuaded by his aunt's fabrications was itself evidence that his love for her had not been strong and steadfast from the outset. And whatever it may once have been, it could not have survived a full twelvemonth of his believing her to be the immoral and defiled woman of George Wickham's letter.

Even though Darcy now knew that it was all an elaborate deception to ensure that he would not consider marrying her, the repugnant image of her that he had held in his mind for the entire year must have destroyed every feeling of affection for her that he had heretofore felt.

In his three brief speeches as they danced recently at Fendalton Park, Darcy had certainly sounded remorseful and contrite, and his resolution to depart immediately after the ball so that she might remain a few days longer to enjoy the company evinced consideration, to be sure. But none of it spoke of love – only of guilt, regret, and repentance.

As she walked up and down the path which ran close to the house, Elizabeth's mind was fixed upon Mr. Darcy who remained within, and she seemed somehow incapable of moving more than a short distance away.

Each time she passed the front door, she glanced through the window beside it, which afforded a view of the hallway. Eventually she spied Lydia coming out of the parlour, followed by Mr. Darcy. Lydia immediately ascended the stairs, no doubt to relieve her mother's burning curiosity regarding her conversation with Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth was about to turn and walk quickly around the house to avoid being seen by Mr. Darcy as he emerged from the front door to enter his carriage; but to her surprise, he crossed the hall instead. Elizabeth crept closer to see what he could be doing. He was knocking on the door of her father's library. It opened, and Mr. Darcy entered!

Elizabeth was stunned at what this might mean. She turned and ran to the wilderness where she seated herself on a bench, but she could not remain still, so agitated were her emotions. She rose and began pacing up and down the path. Darcy had proposed to Lydia! Why else would he trouble Mr. Bennet, if not to beg him to sanction the marriage? She shook her head and sighed – there was no other explanation. Darcy still felt guilty and responsible for Lydia's elopement with Wickham and now he had killed her husband and left her a widow, alone with a child. Evidently, he had chosen to make amends for both wrongdoings by marrying her!

She should have felt respect and gratitude at so noble an act of restitution; but all she felt was empty and hollow, with nothing to look forward to but grey, dull, insipid days that disappeared into obscurity. Elizabeth collapsed onto a bench and cried until her tears were exhausted. The day was cold and gloomy, and her shawl was not thick enough to keep her warm as she sat huddled on the bench, her body becoming numb, like her mind. At length, the sound of Darcy's departing carriage roused her, and she walked slowly back to the house. Encountering Hill, she asked her to tell her mother that she would not join them for the meal, as she was somewhat tired, and felt the need to rest.

Elizabeth lay on her bed and covered herself with a thick shawl, trying to get warm, but the chill was not of the body. Visions of Lydia and Darcy beset her mind, and she was powerless to prevent them: The bride and groom beaming happily in the church in Longbourn, with herself as bridesmaid; Lydia presiding merrily over the dining table at Pemberley, while she was seated, sad and silent, beside a disappointed Georgiana; Lydia and Darcy dining at Willowbank and strolling arm-in-arm beside the river; dancing gaily together at Pemberley, Willowbank, Fendalton Park, and London.

Lydia will, at least, make him a better wife, and Georgiana a more amiable sister than Caroline Bingley ever could, she reflected, but I could not bear to witness it; I shall remain here at Longbourn, for I cannot live at Willowbank.

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	14. Elizabeth Enlightened

_**Chapter 14 ~ Elizabeth Enlightened**_

Elizabeth was roused by a knock on the door; she had apparently fallen asleep. "Lizzy, may I come in?" asked Lydia.

"Yes," replied Elizabeth, sitting up on her bed and arranging the shawl about her shoulders.

"Were you asleep? Are you quite well, Lizzy? You look very pale, you know. I have such news to tell you," said Lydia, bursting with pleasure and excitement as she sat down on the seat beside the dressing table. "I am so happy, Lizzy. All my worries and troubles are over! I shall never again need to worry about money and how I shall be able to support myself and little Eleanor. But I had better start at the beginning, for I am sure you have no idea of the matter."

"Yes, please tell me everything," said Elizabeth forbearingly; for though she had already guessed it all, she was resigned to allowing her sister the joy of relating her good news.

"As you may have guessed, this is all about my private conversation this morning with Mr. Darcy. You can doubtless imagine how astonished I was when he said that he wished to speak with me, for I could think of nothing he might have to say to me. Well, he began by informing me that he was aware that I had witnessed some conversations between Wickham and Miss Bingley, concerning money and a letter. The letter in question, he said, was written by my husband to himself, and contained scurrilous lies concerning you, and in which, most regrettably, he was eventually persuaded to believe. Miss Bingley, he said, had been giving Wickham money to prevent him from revealing that the letter was, in fact, a fraud."

Elizabeth nodded, but said nothing.

"Mr. Darcy said that as a consequence of his recent discovery of the fraudulent nature of the letter, Miss Bingley stopped giving Wickham money, as there was no longer any reason. Wickham was, of course, badly in debt, and in arrears in his rent. Without the money from Miss Bingley, he became desperate, and wrote to Mr. Darcy demanding a large amount, and threatening to make public the allegations in his earlier letter if he did not receive it. Mr. Darcy's reply was to name a time and place where he would meet Wickham with his sword."

Elizabeth gasped. It was just as she had guessed, but still it was shocking to contemplate. "Wickham was killed, then?"

"He deserved to die," said Lydia, harshly. "Mr. Darcy did not wish to disclose it, but I asked him pointedly whether Wickham was living alone, for I suspected him of forming a liaison with another lady – which Mr. Darcy eventually confirmed to be true."

"You are a widow, then?"

"No, I am not," said Lydia, shaking her head.

Elizabeth gasped; all her fears that Mr. Darcy had intended to marry Lydia were for naught! She had to put her hands on the bed to steady herself. It felt as if some great oppressive weight had miraculously been lifted from her chest and she could once again breathe freely. All the tormenting visions of Lydia as Mrs. Darcy were nothing but a bizarre fantasy that had somehow taken hold of her mind.

"Lizzy, are you quite well? You look as if you are about to fall into a swoon," said Lydia anxiously, resting her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder

Taking another deep breath, and struggling to compose herself, Elizabeth replied, "Thank you, I am well – very well – pray continue. So Wickham survived the duel?"

"Yes. Mr. Darcy easily disarmed him without inflicting injury. He then held his sword at Wickham's heart and offered him a choice: Die, or emigrate to Australia, and never return to England. Mr. Darcy paid off his debts, purchased his passage, and gave him a small sum of money to get him started in the colony as a free settler. Wickham's ship sailed two days ago."

"A very clever arrangement," reflected Elizabeth. "There was absolutely no point in demanding Wickham's word that his attempts at blackmail would cease; because his word is worthless. Once he reaches Australia, with his propensity for gambling, he will always be in debt and will never have the money to purchase a return passage. He will live out his life there."

"Yes, that is exactly what Mr. Darcy said. He apologised for denying me the company of my husband. I told him that no apology was necessary; I never wished to see George Wickham again, and it would have suited me better had he killed the scoundrel, as it would have afforded me the possibility of marrying again."

"How did he respond?" asked Elizabeth.

"He was unsurprised; and said my feelings about Wickham were entirely understandable; and though he was a wicked, immoral man, who deserved to die, he did not wish to be his killer. It had occurred to him that in choosing to allow Wickham to live, he must unavoidably deny me the opportunity of remarrying. On that account, and on account also of his not previously having made Wickham's character known to the world, which would have prevented the elopement in the first place, he is determined to provide financial support to me and my child. He is to set aside a sum of ten thousand pounds in my name which, upon my death, will pass to Eleanor. The interest will be enough for us to live on comfortably!"

"Good heavens! How generous!"

"I know, Lizzy. I could scarce believe it. I knew that Wickham had abandoned me, and that I could not depend on him in the least to support Eleanor and me. I could live here at Longbourn, I knew, but only during Papa's lifetime, after which it passes to Mr. Collins – and how then was I to live?"

"Jane and Bingley would never have allowed you to become destitute, Lydia, of that you may be certain."

"Yes, I suppose you are right; but I should so hate for us to have to depend upon the charity of others. God, I wish there was some way to thank Mr. Darcy for his kindness and generosity. After our conversation, he went to speak with Papa about the financial arrangements."

* * *

"Lizzy, come to my library for a minute," requested Mr. Bennet.

Her father seated himself behind his desk and Elizabeth sat uneasily in front of it. "Mr. Darcy has astounded me yet again, Lizzy! No doubt Lydia has given you an account of what transpired between Darcy and George Wickham in London, and of Darcy's determination to settle an endowment of ten thousand pounds upon Lydia and her daughter?"

"Yes; it is an act of unequalled generosity. I find it almost incomprehensible that Mr. Darcy should feel so great a sense of responsibility for Lydia's welfare, to contemplate such a thing."

"Yes, indeed. It is entirely unprecedented," agreed her father, shaking his head. "After Mr. Darcy had outlined the precise details of what he intended, I felt obliged to point out to him that should Lydia become a widow and subsequently remarry, there was no provision for him to recover the ten thousand pounds – that it would remain her property. Furthermore, given the high mortality rate amongst those voyaging to the Australian colonies, it was not an entirely unlikely prospect."

"And how did Mr. Darcy respond?"

"He acknowledged that he was fully aware of the dangers facing George Wickham, and owned that he would not be saddened, in the least, if it transpired that he was unlucky enough to suffer an early demise. Evidently, Darcy had considered that eventuality and the possibility of his widow subsequently remarrying; and though he could have arranged it otherwise, it was his intention that she should retain the ten thousand pounds. 'If in the event of Mrs. Wickham being widowed, and wishing to remarry, the money may materially assist her in such an endeavour. Your daughter deserves happiness, and if my endowment is of some help in that regard, I shall feel myself amply rewarded,' he said."

Elizabeth shook her head in wonder; he was truly the most admirable of men. That he had allowed himself to be duped by his scheming aunt still greatly vexed her; yet she must concede that while he might rightly stand accused of family bias, faulty judgement, and a lack of faith in her own good character, it in no way reflected upon his goodness and morality. Indeed, given what he had believed about her, his actions could not be considered unjust or even uncharitable. He went to great lengths to prevent what he believed to be the truth about her character from becoming common knowledge, and divulged the contents of the incriminating letters to not a soul. It indicated that a measure of regard and concern for her welfare must have persisted, notwithstanding his conviction, at that time, of her character being dissolute and tarnished.

Was it possible, Elizabeth conjectured, that in time he might eventually come to love her again – now that his faith in her virtue and good character had been restored? It seemed almost too much to hope. But of her own heart she was now quite certain: After the unbearable anguish she had suffered during that brief period yesterday in which she had so foolishly persuaded herself that Mr. Darcy would marry Lydia, her feelings could no longer be denied. She had never stopped loving him, she now acknowledged – it was only that those feelings had been for a time obscured by other unhappier emotions – just as Victoria Netherby had hinted.

"Lizzy, my dear, you seem somewhat distracted this evening," said her father.

Startled, Elizabeth realised that her father had been describing the details of the arrangements Mr. Darcy planned to make regarding the ten thousand pounds for Lydia, but she had been so lost in her reverie that she had not comprehended a word of it. "I am sorry, Papa, I must be a little tired," she said.

"Darcy was most reluctant to receive my gratitude for what he intended to do for Lydia," said Mr. Bennet. "He claimed it was undeserved as he was merely righting a wrong of his own creation. But I would have none of it, and was determined to acknowledge the considerable efforts and expense that he went to last year in bringing about Lydia's marriage; I obliged him to allow me to thank him for his generosity on that occasion, also."

"What was his reaction?"

Mr. Bennet laughed. "He appeared quite put out that I knew anything of the matter, and asked me how I had become aware of it. I told him that I heard it all from you, and explained how you first learned of his involvement from Lydia and then obtained the entire story from your aunt."

"And how did he respond?"

"In a most peculiar manner," replied Mr. Bennet shaking his head. "Something about you possessing an extraordinary ability at penetrating mysteries. I have not the slightest idea as to what he could possibly be alluding – do you, my dear?"

Elizabeth blushed and looked confused.

"Do not worry, Lizzy, he probably meant nothing by it – he is somewhat eccentric, I think. In any case, he seemed perfectly satisfied at my reply, that your powers of penetration are great, indeed. He then made clear his wish that as few people as possible should know of either act of generosity concerning Lydia. He is a man who does not like the world to know of his private affairs, I think."

"True," agreed Elizabeth. "And in particular, of his association and dealings with George Wickham. With regard to Lydia's marriage, only my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, Jane, you and I are aware of all that he has done; even Lydia does not know the whole of it."

"Yes," said her father with a sigh, "but in the case of the endowment of ten thousand pounds, your mother knows of it, and it would be entirely pointless to ask her to exercise discretion in the matter. If Mrs. Long, and half of Meryton do not already know of Lydia's good fortune, they very soon will!"

* * *

By early November, Elizabeth was contemplating returning to the north. Her mother had been in one of her ebullient moods ever since Darcy's visit, and could not stop talking about Lydia's good fortune and all the fine clothes that her daughter might spend her newly acquired wealth upon. Fortunately, Lydia had become surprisingly sensible and level-headed, and had no intention of wasting her money imprudently. She intended to continue living at Longbourn, although she hinted to Elizabeth that she would very much like to pay a visit to Jane and Bingley in Cheshire when little Eleanor was old enough to make the journey.

Mrs. Bennet was a person who could not easily tolerate her own company; she must have companions – one at the very least – to whom she could incessantly recite the erratic ramblings of her mind. It was an occupation that her husband refused to countenance. With Kitty well on the way to matrimony, it was greatly to her mother's advantage, considered Elizabeth, that Lydia should make her home at Longbourn. Elizabeth admired her younger sister's ability to cheerfully endure her mother's endless chatter, which, apart from Lydia's recent windfall, often turned upon strategies of hastening Jonathon Chester's proposal of marriage to Kitty. Elizabeth felt confident that left to his own devices, he would come to the point soon enough. Mrs. Bennet, however, could not be persuaded that any gentleman could be relied upon to behave sensibly in such an important matter, and that a firm hand and a well-devised scheme was the best means of ensuring a satisfactory outcome.

Aside from wishing to escape her mother's tiresome conversation, Elizabeth had received an invitation from Georgiana to attend a ball at Pemberley in honour of her birthday at the end of November. She was anxious to re-establish herself in the neighbourhood, and comprehend how she would be received in society, now that she was no longer a pariah – and though perhaps she would not admit it to herself, she was eager to be in the company of Mr. Darcy, and to learn what were his feelings for her.

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	15. Seating Arrangements

_**Chapter 15 ~ Seating Arrangements**_

Elizabeth was greatly pleased to be at Willowbank once more, after a long, wet, cold journey travelling post. Autumn had given way to early winter and the scene, particularly along the river, now lined by leafless trees, was quite different from when she had last viewed it two months earlier. Yet still it charmed her; there was a delicate, tranquil beauty to the long, bare branches of the willow trees dangling over the swollen river in the pale winter sunshine, causing a myriad of ripples as they touched the water.

Jane could scarcely believe that motherhood had brought so great an improvement to Lydia, and was naturally overjoyed to learn of it. "To think that a tiny baby has achieved, in so short a time, what you and I were powerless to accomplish with our constant attempts at correcting Lydia's wayward behaviour over so many years," reflected Jane, shaking her head.

Elizabeth recounted how Mr. Darcy had dealt with Wickham and of the endowment of ten thousand pounds he had settled upon their sister. Jane was astonished at the news. "Certainly I shall tell no one – apart from Charles, of course – and you say I may not even thank him for such an exemplary act of generosity and kindness?"

Elizabeth shook her head. Jane could not praise him enough, and Elizabeth was ready to agree to every well-deserved accolade her sister laid at his feet. Jane was satisfied that her sister was a fair way to forgiving Mr. Darcy for the terrible way he had treated her. It pleased her, for she very much wished for felicity and ease in the intercourse between Pemberley and Willowbank, which had been so awkward and fraught when her sister was previously in Cheshire. Jane dearly wished to know if there had been a consequent resurgence of Elizabeth's feelings for Mr. Darcy, but she was too considerate to ask. She must wait for Elizabeth to speak upon the subject – something her sister had thus far eschewed.

* * *

The morning following Elizabeth's arrival, Georgiana came to wait on them. She was overjoyed to see Elizabeth, and spoke at length of her visit to Fendalton Park, where they had last been in each other's company, two months earlier.

"I passed an entirely delightful fortnight there. Lady Netherby was so very kind and charming," said Georgiana. "It was lovely being in the company of an older lady, and particularly to hear her reminiscences about my own dear mother, whom I can barely remember. They had been acquainted since youth, and their friendship persisted after they both were married. Lady Netherby told me how she remembers holding me when I was but a tiny baby."

"And how did you enjoy the rest of the company?" asked Elizabeth teasingly.

Georgiana blushed. "Miss Netherby also treated me with the greatest kindness. I found her directness a little alarming at first, but I very quickly became accustomed to her ways."

"Yes, she is a little eccentric, is she not?" replied Elizabeth. "I must say that I admire her intelligence and self-confidence. She seems quite unwilling to fit into the demure, ornamental mould expected of young ladies these days."

"That may be admirable, but it might also damage her prospects of finding a suitable husband," counselled Jane. "An intelligent lady, who wishes to find a husband, will strive to meet all the expectations of society. After she is married is the time to allow any eccentricities a freer reign."

Elizabeth laughed. "I believe you are correct, Jane, and doubtless it is the common practice; but I believe Miss Netherby is yet undecided as to whether she wishes to marry. She has a considerable fortune and a home she loves. She may very well be loath to leave Fendalton Park."

"Although she was not explicit," said Georgiana, "it seemed to me that she might have developed a preference for my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was staying at Fendalton Park as the guest of Lord Netherby. She spent a good deal of time in his company, and it seemed to me that she paid close attention when he was speaking; it was almost as if she were attempting to form a comprehensive opinion of his character."

Elizabeth smiled to herself; for it was exactly the intention Miss Netherby had indicated when she revealed that her brother had, at her request, invited the colonel to stay. She was most curious to know the result.

"And what do you think is your cousin's regard for Miss Netherby?" asked Jane.

"I believe that he genuinely likes her. They were very often engaged in conversation regarding music, art, history and other subjects of mutual interest. Colonel Fitzwilliam treated Miss Netherby with the utmost gallantry and charm – but then he treats every lady in a like manner, so it cannot, in truth, be claimed that he showed any particular preference towards her," concluded Georgiana. "I have invited Miss Netherby to visit me at Pemberley; she is expected any day now. It will afford an opportunity to determine the degree of their liking for each other."

"Speaking of which," said Elizabeth playfully, "you have yet to mention how you found Lord Netherby. I am certain that Lady Netherby will have ensured that you were often seated beside him and had ample occasion to enjoy his charming company."

Georgina sighed light-heartedly. "It was exactly as you say. I frequently found myself seated beside Lord Netherby at the dining table, and his mother often contrived to have me play the pianoforte when he sang, or suggested that Lord Netherby might wish to show me some notable feature of the grounds or walk with me in the rose garden."

"And with what success did she meet in her endeavours?" teased Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth! You are terrible! Can you not see that you are embarrassing poor Georgiana?" intervened Jane sympathetically.

Georgiana blushed, but appeared disposed to answer. "As for Lord Netherby, I cannot say. He is well aware of his mother's desire, and if it was only Lady Netherby he wished to please, he would most certainly have paid me his addresses. He alluded, with good humour, more than once to his mother's scheme and how she had been most forthright in expressing her displeasure at him choosing you, Elizabeth, as his partner to open the ball. As I recall, he spoke of you quite often."

"Georgiana," said Elizabeth, "we are neither of us in love with the other – please believe me. But what I wish to know is your opinion of Lord Netherby. Did it undergo any material alteration as a result of your visit?"

Georgiana considered her words carefully. "I have always liked Lord Netherby; and yes, I found his company most engaging. I think I can say that my regard for him has increased. More than that, I felt that I could live very happily at Fendalton Park with Lady Netherby and Victoria – although if she marries, she will make her home elsewhere."

"Not necessarily," suggested Jane. "Fendalton Park is very large indeed. It could very easily be home to both Lord Netherby and his wife, and also Victoria and her husband, as well as Lady Netherby. If Miss Netherby were to marry someone who had no estate of his own, something of the sort might very well eventuate."

"Someone such as – Colonel Fitzwilliam, perhaps?" proposed Elizabeth, smiling.

"Oh, I had not considered that," replied Georgiana. The picture that came to mind of her of living at Fendalton Park, as the wife of Lord Netherby together with Lady Netherby and her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam as the husband of Victoria Netherby was not at all an unpleasant one.

Before Miss Darcy departed, Jane invited her, along with her brother and cousin, to dine with them the following day. Elizabeth was unable to feel at her ease as she contemplated meeting with Mr. Darcy. How would he behave towards her? What were his feelings for her, she wondered.

* * *

The dinner failed to meet Elizabeth's hopes and expectations. When their guests arrived, Mr. Darcy made a tolerable performance of greeting her, and while they were taking drinks, prior to entering the dining room, he purposefully stood beside her. Elizabeth took this as a good omen and waited hopefully for him to speak. He cleared his throat on several occasions, with the apparent intention of speaking, but nevertheless said nothing. He appeared nervous and awkward.

At length, Elizabeth said, "I trust that you had a pleasant drive from Pemberley, sir. I understand that it has rained a great deal, hereabouts, in the past several weeks, and that the roads are in rather a poor state."

"Err… yes… the drive from Pemberley took somewhat longer that usual," he replied stiltedly. Mr. Darcy was clearly most uncomfortable, yet he seemed determined to persevere. Eventually he said, "I hope that your journey from Hertfordshire was not an uncomfortable one on account of the wintry weather, Miss Bennet?"

"I thank you, sir; it was cold and difficult in parts, on account of the state of the roads – but well worth the inconvenience."

"Why so? Did you not enjoy your time with your relations in Longbourn?" asked Darcy.

Elizabeth looked away from him, but said nothing. _How could he misunderstand my meaning; that it was on account of my desire to be again at Willowbank, and in the society of so many dear acquaintances – himself not the least?_

"Err… excuse me…" mumbled Darcy, aware of how boorish his question must have appeared to the lady. "I did not mean to suggest that there was any reason why you should not have found the society pleasing… err… your parents and sisters in Longbourn are all well, I trust?"

"Thank you, sir, they are all very well – and little Eleanor, I am happy to say, is thriving," said Elizabeth.

"I beg your pardon?" said Darcy, evidently unsure of to whom she was referring.

"My sister Lydia's daughter – I believe you saw her briefly when you entered the parlour at Longbourn last month."

"Oh!" said Darcy, reddening. His sister and cousin were standing close by, and Elizabeth suspected that they knew nothing of Darcy's visit to Longbourn, or of the endowment he had settled upon Lydia – and that he wished it to remain so. They were very likely also unaware of the duel he had fought with Wickham, or of the circumstances which had precipitated it. "Please excuse me," said Darcy abruptly, draining his glass, and walking stiffly across the room to the sideboard to take another. He did not return to Elizabeth, but instead approached Bingley, whom he engaged in conversation.

Mr. Darcy was ill at ease throughout the visit. His behaviour was exactly of a piece with his conduct in September the year before, when he and Bingley had dined at Longbourn. Elizabeth had attempted to explain his awkwardness on that occasion by the discomfort he likely felt on account of her mother, who treated him with bare civility, and went out of her way to make him feel unwelcome. But no such mitigating circumstance could be claimed today. How was his evident embarrassment and discomposure in her society to be explained?

Jane had seated Elizabeth next to Mr. Darcy at the table, but he spoke very little, and drank rather a lot of wine, she thought. After several unsuccessful attempts at engaging him in conversation, Elizabeth gave up in frustration. _Is he avoiding conversing with me for fear that I might again allude to his visit to Longbourn? _she wondered. _Does he imagine me so insensible of his evident wish to avoid the subject that I would speak on it again – or does he imagine that I deliberately introduced the subject earlier with the intention of causing him embarrassment, and may very likely do so again?_ She found him as incomprehensible and unfathomable as ever.

Fortunately, Colonel Fitzwilliam, sitting on her other side was his usual charming self, speaking with intelligence and ease on a range of interesting subjects. But Elizabeth found herself unable to enjoy his affable conviviality, so disappointed and disconcerted was she at the gentleman sitting silently on her other side.

When Jane had earlier proposed the intended seating arrangements for the meal, her sister had not objected to being seated beside Mr. Darcy, although she continued to maintain her silence regarding that gentleman. Jane had closely observed Mr. Darcy's behaviour, and understood how dissatisfied and unhappy her sister must be. She could not understand the man, but resolved not to be the first to introduce his name into their discourse.

* * *

Had it not been for the arrival of Lord Netherby and Victoria Netherby at Pemberley, Elizabeth might well have found some pretext to decline accompanying Jane and Bingley to dine at Pemberley a few days later – so unwilling was she to again be discomforted and bewildered by Mr. Darcy.

As master of the house, Darcy managed to welcome Elizabeth with a tolerable measure of decorum – albeit in a somewhat stiff and formal manner. Lord Netherby's greeting, in contrast, was all warmth and felicity at meeting again with a dear friend. Elizabeth was so pleased to see him and his sister that she began to feel some measure of contentment. While they were taking drinks before the meal, Miss Netherby contrived to draw Elizabeth aside and hinted that not only had she finally resolved in favour of marriage, but she believed that more than one union was presently in the offing. Elizabeth wondered whom, besides herself and Colonel Fitzwilliam, she intended; was it her brother, Lord Netherby, and Georgiana to whom she referred, or was it to herself and Mr. Darcy? If it were the latter, Miss Netherby would become very quickly disabused of that fancy.

As they were about to enter the dining room, Lord Netherby attached himself to Elizabeth, offering her his arm, and she found herself seated beside him to her left, with Colonel Fitzwilliam on her right, next to whom sat Georgiana at the bottom of the table, then Bingley, Jane, Victoria Netherby, and Darcy at the head of the table, with Lord Netherby to his right.

Georgiana was exceedingly confused; this was not at all the seating arrangement she had planned. She wondered how it could have happened that not one of the three couples she had intended to seat together were sitting beside each other, and that the only married couple present, were seated together. She must speak with Jane and discover how better to manage the task of seating her guests in the desired place.

Elizabeth was not starved for conversation today. In fact, she had difficulty finishing each course, so occupied was she in conversing with her neighbours. Colonel Fitzwilliam was as pleasant and engaging as always, although he devoted much of his time speaking and giving encouragement to his young cousin, who remained somewhat disconcerted by the seating arrangements.

Lord Netherby was even more gallant and charming than Elizabeth recalled from her stay at Fendalton Park. He spoke of the great pleasure her visit had given them all, and then said with a mysterious smile that he hoped she would never be a stranger to Nottinghamshire.

He inquired with interest concerning her sojourn in Hertfordshire, and rather surprisingly said, "I am endeavouring to form a favourable opinion of that country for I must confess to having been rather annoyed with Hertfordshire for taking you away from us in September."

Elizabeth blushed at his words, which implied a degree of preference that surprised her.

"You may wonder at seeing me here at Pemberley today," he said. "My original intention was to ride over next week on the day of the ball and stay but a day or two. However, when I learnt that a certain young lady, whom I much admire, had recently returned to the district, I impulsively decided to accompany my sister and come earlier."

Elizabeth was, by this time, feeling quite discomposed. There could be not the least doubt as to the lady to whom he was referring – for he was staring at her most ardently. Elizabeth noticed with consternation that Mr. Darcy, on Lord Netherby's left, had heard every word. He sat frozen, a spoonful of pudding arrested inches from his mouth, doubtless digesting the implications for his sister. Elizabeth glanced in Georgiana's direction, hoping that she had not heard Lord Netherby, and was relieved to observe her deep in conversation with her cousin.

Despite Elizabeth's palpable embarrassment, Lord Netherby carried on in a similar vein. If Georgiana could not hear what was being spoken, she could hardly fail to notice the keen attention that Elizabeth was receiving from Lord Netherby. Elizabeth eagerly anticipated the moment when the ladies would withdraw from the table and leave the gentlemen to their port and cigars.

When, at last, the time came, and the ladies had repaired to the drawing room, Elizabeth continued to feel ill at ease on account of Georgiana, who, for a time, sat quiet and withdrawn. Miss Netherby engaged Georgiana in conversation concerning a particular Mozart piano sonata, and when it transpired that Georgiana had the music, Miss Netherby very soon had her playing it for them.

When the gentlemen joined them, Lord Netherby was immediately at Elizabeth's side, where he remained for much of the evening, although he was careful to allot some attention, also, to his hostess, Miss Darcy, with whom he sang some splendid Italian love songs. In the drawing room, at least, it was possible to find a pretext to move away from Lord Netherby from time to time; yet Elizabeth was afraid that no one could have failed to observe the partiality he showed her.

* * *

The following morning, Jane remarked upon the surprising seating arrangements at the Pemberley dinner, and even more surprisingly at the consequent animation of the conversation at the dining table.

"I must own," replied Elizabeth, "that I was astonished at Lord Netherby's warmth and enthusiasm; it was beyond anything he exhibited when I was at Fendalton Park. I fear that poor Georgiana must have been quite distressed by his behaviour."

"Yes, it was all so unexpected, although I must confess myself unsurprised that any young man should be enchanted with you, dear Lizzy. Lord Netherby is a very charming and eligible young man, and since you have in no way encouraged him, you have no reason to feel guilty on Georgiana's account if he should prefer you."

"Indeed he is charming and amiable, and yet…"

"Lizzy, my dear, if you will pardon my presumption – well, if you are thinking of a different gentleman who was also present yesterday, I must say that despite his being aware, for some months now, of the deception which formerly caused him to think ill of you, his recent behaviour cannot be seen in a very hopeful light."

"Yes," agreed Elizabeth sadly, "he has been aloof, awkward, and taciturn."

"It is not just the regrettable manner in which he has conducted himself towards you to which I refer, but more particularly to the preference that he showed yesterday for Miss Netherby."

"Victoria Netherby?" asked Elizabeth in surprise.

"Surely, Lizzy, you could not have failed to notice that they spent a good deal of the meal engaged in conversation. I must admit that I was astonished at the contrast between his willingness to engage in conversation with Miss Netherby yesterday, and his almost total silence when seated beside you at our dinner table just a few days earlier."

"I must confess, Jane, that I hardly noticed it," said Elizabeth. "Please do not believe for a moment that I doubt the accuracy of your observation – it is only that Lord Netherby kept me engaged in conversation from the moment we seated ourselves at the table until the moment we withdrew to the drawing room. In my growing alarm at the warmth of Lord Netherby's attentions, I noticed very little of what was going forth amongst the rest of the party. Mr. Darcy was, I recall, also seated beside Miss Netherby when the gentlemen later joined us in the drawing room, although I paid little regard at the time, so conscious was I of Lord Netherby's constant attentions and how it must appear, most especially to Georgiana, whom I fear I have injured most grievously."

"You must not say that, Elizabeth; you have done nothing of the kind! If anyone is to blame for injuring Miss Darcy, it is Lord Netherby. Certainly, Georgiana appeared to be confused and discomposed; however, it may well have been on account of no one being seated beside the person she had intended. From the report she gave us a few days ago regarding her visit to Fendalton Park, while she appeared to be well disposed towards Lord Netherby, it was not my impression that Georgiana is in love with him. She is yet young, and from our many conversations, I have never understood her to be ready to marry – apart from during that brief period when it seemed that Caroline Bingley was destined to become her sister."

"From what you tell me, Mr. Darcy and Miss Netherby had a good deal to say to each other?" asked Elizabeth, hesitantly.

"Indeed they did," replied Jane. "Victoria Netherby is a most intelligent and well-read woman, and she had little difficulty in engaging Mr. Darcy's attention. Although sitting at the head of the table, as he did, he had little other possibility of conversation, for Lord Netherby, on his right, was so entirely devoted to you."

"Jane, there is something I must tell you. Victoria Netherby gave me to understand, when I was her guest at Fendalton Park, that she was as yet undecided as to whether she wished to marry. However, if at some future time she did choose to marry, it seemed evident that she had already decided to whom it would be – Colonel Fitzwilliam. She had her brother invite him to stay so that she could further consider the desirability of marriage and the likelihood that she might bring him to the point of paying her his addresses.

"Before we entered the dining room, yesterday, Victoria intimated to me that she had decided in the affirmative with regard to marriage. I expected to see her sit beside Colonel Fitzwilliam as Georgiana had intended, but it now seems that she has decided that Mr. Darcy would suit her better."

Jane was about to comment that it would be a most suitable match, and that furthermore, their behaviour yesterday did nothing to contradict Elizabeth's conjecture. However, she chose to keep her silence, for it was evident that notwithstanding Mr. Darcy's unsociable behaviour towards her sister of late, that she was still very much in love with the gentleman.

"Victoria also hinted to me that another marriage was in the offing," continued Elizabeth. "At the time, I wondered if she was alluding to her brother and Georgiana – or possibly, even, to myself and Mr. Darcy – but now her meaning is evident: It was to Lord Netherby and myself."

"Miss Netherby must know her brother's heart, Elizabeth. If that was her meaning, then it is not unlikely that Lord Netherby intends to pay you his addresses. I advise you to think carefully on the subject, and to be prepared to give him your answer."

"There is nothing to consider, Jane. He is a most amiable, handsome, and charming young man, with many fine qualities. I greatly admire him – but that is all – and it is not enough. I do not love him."

Jane sighed; it all seemed so hopeless. "Then how shall I arrange the seating when the party from Pemberley come to dine with us in three days time? Beside whom do you wish to be seated?"

Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "I have no preference, Jane; it is of no material concern to me. Given the surprising animation of yesterday's table, you might do worse than simply allowing your guests to sit beside whomever they please."

_**Please leave a comment...**_


	16. All the World's a Stage

_**Chapter 16 ~ All the World's a Stage**_

The guests from Pemberley arrived in two carriages. In the first, were Lord Netherby, his sister, and Georgiana Darcy, who arrived some ten minutes ahead of Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam in the second.

Lord Netherby was almost immediately at Elizabeth's side. "Miss Bennet," he said, "I contrived that I should arrive here before the other gentlemen, as I was eager to be the first to make a particular request of you."

"Oh?" responded Elizabeth apprehensively. "And what is your request, sir?"

"Only the pleasure of the first two dances at the Pemberley ball."

Elizabeth smiled. "It will be my pleasure, also, Lord Netherby. But have you considered that you must certainly invoke the disapprobation of Lady Netherby, whom I feel certain would wish to hear that you had opened the ball with the young lady whose birthday it is intended to celebrate."

Lord Netherby smiled. "Most regrettably, I choose my own pleasure and – I sincerely hope – that of my intended partner, above the wishes of my dear mother."

"And is not the pleasure of the young lady in whose honour the ball is held to be likewise considered?" asked Elizabeth softly, not wishing the others – Georgiana, most especially – to hear.

"Certainly," replied Lord Netherby quietly. "But it is my belief that it would be a pleasure of no great moment to the young lady – in the way that it would be to my mother, or to her brother. I think you comprehend my meaning, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth nodded. Lord Netherby wished her to understand that, in his opinion, Miss Darcy was not in love with him. Elizabeth reflected that Georgiana had said nothing to indicate that he was mistaken in the matter.

When the second carriage arrived, and greetings had been exchanged, Elizabeth was surprised at the immediate approach of Mr. Darcy. "Excuse me, Lord Netherby," he said. "If Miss Bennet will consent, I wish to have a private word with her."

Lord Netherby nodded his assent – somewhat ungraciously – and crossed the room to speak with his sister, leaving Elizabeth alone with Mr. Darcy, whom she now regarded. He looked ill at ease and tense, seemingly steeling himself for some most formidable task.

"Err… Miss Bennet, I wish… err, that is to say… if you are not otherwise engaged, I wish to request the pleasure of the first two dances at the Pemberley ball," he said nervously, unable to quite meet her eyes.

"I thank you, sir; but I regret to inform you, that I am already engaged for those two dances," said Elizabeth.

Darcy stiffened, and looking away, he turned his gaze to the other side of the room, where it came to rest, resentfully, upon Lord Netherby, whom, he surmised, must be the gentleman to whom Miss Bennet was engaged for those two dances.

Elizabeth felt awkward and embarrassed, and could think of nothing further to say. If Mr. Darcy truly wished to dance with her, rather than simply to triumph over Lord Netherby in some sort of schoolboy rivalry, he had only to request the pleasure of dancing a subsequent set with her; but it was not her place to suggest it.

Darcy turned back to her and said aggrievedly, "Miss Bennet, my motive for wishing to dance the first set with you is on account of my particular desire that it should be noticed by all those present at the ball. It would be understood as an unambiguous acknowledgement that I was mistaken in my reasons for excluding you from my society, and of my incontrovertible belief in your respectability. I must tell you that although the stated intention of the ball is to celebrate my sister's birthday, my real reason for holding it is my earnest wish to undo the damage I have done to your reputation."

Elizabeth blushed. "Your good intentions do you credit, sir. I believe that your object will be principally achieved by the simple fact of my presence at the ball. I am most appreciative of your efforts on my behalf; however, I earnestly hope that if you do request the pleasure of dancing with me, it will be because you truly deem it a pleasure – and not merely a duty."

Darcy knew not how to answer, and as he searched for a suitable reply, the butler announced the dinner. Darcy was momentarily distracted by the approach of Miss Netherby, and when he turned back to Miss Bennet, he saw Lord Netherby offering her his arm to escort her to the dining table, leaving him to accompany Lord Netherby's sister.

Whether by accident or design, Darcy was seated at the bottom of the dining table, with Victoria Netherby on his left side and Elizabeth on his right, next to whom sat Lord Netherby, then Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Charles Bingley at the top of the table. To his right were Georgiana, Jane, and Victoria Netherby.

Elizabeth reflected that if Colonel Fitzwilliam had developed a preference for Miss Netherby, as Georgiana thought possible, then he would be unhappy to once again find himself seated so far from her – and more particularly, to see her again seated beside Mr. Darcy. Miss Netherby's partiality for his cousin was becoming all too apparent.

This entirely unexpected turn of events both puzzled Elizabeth and disturbed her. She endeavoured to more closely observe the behaviour of the other members of the party, most especially Victoria Netherby, who sat opposite her, and whose conduct with regard to Mr. Darcy she found more than a little provoking.

Elizabeth's task was not made any easier by Lord Netherby, who was eager to engage her in conversation, and – to her surprise – Mr. Darcy, who made repeated efforts to converse with her – albeit somewhat clumsily. Whenever he did succeed in winning her attention from Lord Netherby, Miss Netherby, inevitably intervened and deftly drew Mr. Darcy's attention back to herself.

Never in her life had Elizabeth experienced such a meal. So engaged was she in conversing with one or other of her neighbours, or observing the intercourse between Miss Netherby and Mr. Darcy, that her dishes were all cleared away unfinished. Colonel Fitzwilliam, too, she noticed, was closely observing Miss Netherby and Mr. Darcy, and appeared most dissatisfied with what he saw. Georgiana, Jane, and Charles Bingley seemed amused and somewhat bewildered. Elizabeth, however, was by this time becoming exceedingly suspicious of both Miss Netherby and her brother.

When the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, Elizabeth seated herself beside Victoria Netherby, and smilingly raised an inquiring eyebrow. Miss Netherby looked away. Georgiana was standing beside the pianoforte with Jane, selecting the music she would play when they were joined by the gentlemen.

"When I think back to the wonderful time I spent with you and your brother at Fendalton Park," said Elizabeth, "one of the highlights was those occasions when we were reading from Shakespeare's plays. I imagine that you and Lord Netherby must spend many hours together enjoying such amusements?"

"Indeed, we do. It is a favourite pastime of ours, and one that our mother has encouraged from an early age."

"Then please give Lady Netherby my sincere compliments for promoting such a worthy enterprise; anyone who has seen you perform cannot but agree that her efforts have not been wasted – and I do not refer to Shakespeare's plays."

"Oh," said Victoria, smiling. "So you have discovered my little ruse? I should have guessed you might."

"I am only ashamed that it has taken me so long," said Elizabeth.

"I think it has all worked rather well. I must confess I am rather pleased with it. You know, of course, that I plan to one day write a romance? I think I shall make use of a similar stratagem; it will add a delightful element of amusement, I believe."

Before Elizabeth could reply, they were joined by Jane, who was concerned that her sister was not well, for she had not finished her plate in any of the courses served.

"I am very well, Jane, and your cook excelled himself this evening; all the dishes were excellent. It is only that Lord Netherby and Mr. Darcy kept me talking the whole meal long; I barely managed to eat at all."

"Well, it was most rude of them to keep you talking so relentlessly," said Victoria, and then smiling, she added, "I did my best, you know, to distract Mr. Darcy, and afford you some peace, but I must concede that I was unequal to the task of preventing his attentions from repeatedly returning to you."

When the gentlemen joined them, Lord Netherby approached Elizabeth and adroitly steered her towards a sofa to the side of the room, away the rest of the party.

"I have just been asking your sister to congratulate Lady Netherby on my behalf," said Elizabeth, smiling mysteriously.

"And on what account are these congratulations in order?" enquired the gentleman.

"For encouraging you both, so successfully, to develop such prodigious acting abilities."

"Oh? So you have guessed our little game, then? To do my sister justice, I must acknowledge that the authorship is all hers; I am merely an actor playing my part."

Lord Netherby looked a little embarrassed and guilty, thought Elizabeth. "Nevertheless, you played your part exceedingly well; I must concede that I was entirely taken in."

"Miss Bennet," entreated Lord Netherby anxiously. "Please tell me that you have not… well, that is to say… I sincerely hope that your heart has not been touched by the enthusiasm of my performance."

"You may rest assured, Lord Netherby, that in spite of your considerable charms and the verisimilitude of your performance, no damage has been done," said Elizabeth, eager to set his mind at rest, for the sincerity of his concern was evident.

Lord Netherby sighed with relief. "My sister assured me that there was no likelihood of your being swayed by my pretence; for she was quite certain that your affections were elsewhere engaged," he said, looking in the direction of Mr. Darcy, who was seated beside his sister.

"Miss Netherby assumes too much," said Elizabeth curtly, following the gentleman's gaze. Mr. Darcy, she observed, was looking back at Lord Netherby, not with the same barely-concealed hostility with which he had regarded him at the table, but rather with a look of expectation.

Lord Netherby, evidently comprehending the meaning of Mr. Darcy's expression, said, "Miss Bennet, I have a rather unusual request to make of you."

"Yes?" said Elizabeth smiling, encouragingly.

"I wish to withdraw my application to dance the first two dances of the ball with you."

"How extraordinary," said Elizabeth, feigning offence. "I have never heard of such a thing. There is no precedent, surely, for a gentleman to recant an invitation to a lady to dance with him? You must have a very serious reason for so un-chivalrous a slight," she said, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Indeed I do, and please believe me, that no insult of any kind is intended. I beg you, Miss Bennet, please do not understand my unusual request as representing a diminution of my regard for you; it is only that Mr. Darcy was most forceful in his demand that I relinquish the honour in favour of himself. He took me aside while we were at our port and cigars, and requested a private word with me. For a moment I feared that he intended to challenge me to a duel, so stern and grave was his demeanour."

"Doubtless, it was his intention to do so, had you not acceded to his demand," said Elizabeth ironically. "I must tell you, sir, that I am most disappointed that you were not willing to die for the pleasure of dancing with me. You are not at all the romantic young gentleman I had believed you to be."

Lord Netherby laughed. "I fully intend to dance with you, Miss Bennet, but not those two dances. And I wish you to know that I did not give them up lightly."

"And how, exactly, did Mr. Darcy succeed in making you give way to him in the matter?"

"He explained that his desire in wishing to engage you for the first two dances was that it would be understood by all those present at the ball, and very soon afterwards the entire neighbourhood, as an unequivocal acknowledgement that his former reasons for excluding you from his society had been entirely mistaken, and of his incontrovertible faith in your respectability. It is his earnest wish that your good name be restored. That also being my own sincere wish, I was most willing to comply with his request."

Their conversation ended abruptly at this point, as Lord Netherby was called upon to join his sister and Miss Darcy in a song. Upon its commencement, Mr. Darcy approached and seated himself beside Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet," said he, "am I correct in understanding that you are no longer engaged for the first two dances?"

Elizabeth nodded her head, scrutinising her interlocutor carefully.

"In that case, may I reapply for the pleasure of engaging you for those two dances?"

Elizabeth nodded again, but remained silent.

"Then you agree to open the ball with me?" he asked tentatively.

"You are getting somewhat ahead of yourself, Mr. Darcy. I merely agreed that you might make your request again; I have not yet assented to it," said Elizabeth pointedly. "Furthermore, it would seem strange, would it not, if any lady other than your sister, in whose honour the ball is to be held, should stand at the top in the first set."

"Of course, you are quite correct, Miss Bennet. My sister and her partner will indeed lead off the first set. I only intended that you and I should be the first couple to follow them."

"But I have not yet consented to be your partner."

Darcy's face took on a reddish tinge, as he looked silently and imploringly at Elizabeth.

"As I informed you, Mr. Darcy, upon your earlier application this evening, while I am most appreciative of your efforts on my behalf to undo the damage to my character that you have inflicted, good intentions, alone, are an insufficient inducement for me to accept an invitation to dance with a gentleman. If you wish me to agree to be your partner for the first two – or indeed any – dances, then you will have to convince me that your request springs from a sincere desire for the pleasure of my company and of dancing with me – and not merely a feeling of guilt and a sense of duty. Please excuse me, sir," said Elizabeth, quickly rising and crossing the room to sit beside Jane, leaving Mr. Darcy perplexed and dissatisfied.

Elizabeth adroitly managed to deny Mr. Darcy any further opportunity of a tête-à-tête during the remainder of the evening. He sat alone, unhappy and discontented. Miss Netherby was otherwise engaged, for Colonel Fitzwilliam, taking full advantage of the greater freedom of movement possible in the drawing room, was constantly beside her and entirely successful in engaging her attention.

* * *

The following morning, the first snow of the winter began falling heavily. Consequently, Elizabeth and Jane put off their intended visit to Pemberley to wait upon Miss Darcy and Miss Netherby, and instead sat in the morning room recounting the events of the previous day's dinner. Jane commented on the seating arrangements, which, at her sister's suggestion, she had left entirely up to her guests to determine. "It was quite similar, I think, to the Pemberley dinner – and entirely contrary to how I should have arranged things. And yet, once again, conversation was abundant and greatly animated; I must confess that I was quite baffled by it all. Something strange is afoot, Lizzy. I cannot quite put my finger on it. Do you have any inkling of what it can be?"

"Indeed I do, Jane. I began to suspect that everything was not quite what it appeared to be when we dined recently at Pemberley; and so yesterday I closely observed all the party, and by the end of the meal, I had uncovered the mystery: Miss Netherby and her brother have been enacting a rather elaborate – and I might add, successful – little deception upon us all."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Jane. "Surely you do not believe that Miss Netherby's attentions to Mr. Darcy – and those of Lord Netherby to yourself – are not genuine? Why, Lizzy, that would be scandalous! I cannot believe it to be true!"

"It is entirely true. I challenged Victoria when we withdrew to the drawing room and she conceded it all – without, I might add, the least embarrassment. It was all her idea, her brother was simply acting the part she had devised for him. She even expressed her satisfaction at the result."

"How shocking!" said Jane, shaking her head. "It is the sort of outlandish thing that one might expect to encounter in an amusing novel! Miss Netherby is indeed an eccentric lady! I find myself unable to approve of her extraordinary behaviour."

Elizabeth laughed. "Indeed, she cares little for social conventions; and yet I must admit to a certain admiration of her spirit. You will be unsurprised to learn that she intends one day to write a novel, and remarked yesterday that she may very likely employ such a device in her story. In any case, you must admit, Jane: she achieved exactly what she intended."

"If you mean that Miss Netherby made Colonel Fitzwilliam jealous by pretending to favour Mr. Darcy, then yes, it seemed so. Having failed to be seated near her at the table, the colonel wasted little time in seeking out her company in the drawing room. As I recall, he similarly sought Miss Netherby out at in the drawing room at Pemberley, but on that occasion she stayed so close to Mr. Darcy, that he was hardly able to converse with her. Yesterday, however, Miss Netherby allowed Colonel Fitzwilliam greater opportunity, and he took full advantage. In fact, I must confess to overhearing him applying for the first two dances at the ball, and being accepted with pleasure."

"Yes, that part of her scheme worked well, indeed," said Elizabeth.

"Was her pretence at favouring Mr. Darcy also intended to arouse your interest in him, by making you jealous of her?" asked Jane coyly.

"Yes, very probably; although it was merely a side effect. I suspect that Miss Netherby believes that despite the abominable way Mr. Darcy has treated me that I still care for the man, and am consequently in no great need of encouragement. Her scheme, in that regard, was more in the nature of provoking Mr. Darcy, by making him jealous of Lord Netherby; an endeavour in which she succeeded admirably."

As her sister had introduced the subject, Jane took the opportunity to ask the question which she had wished to ask ever since her return to Willowbank. "Lizzy, I hope you do not mind me asking you, and I will quite understand if you choose not to answer. Is Miss Netherby correct in her belief that you still have feelings for Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth was silent for a long time while she considered her reply. "Sometimes I fancy that I do still care for him. But at other times, he makes me so angry that I feel as if I would be happy never to see him again."

"I can certainly understand how angry you must have been with him all those long months when he treated you so coldly and refused your society. And then to discover the reason for his behaviour – that he had believed the lies of his aunt rather than trusting in your good character – your anger and scorn were entirely justified. But Lizzy, has he not shown true remorse for his errors, and begged you to accept his sincere apologies? And consider what he has done for Lydia; his extraordinary generosity. Can you never forgive him his mistake?"

"I believe that I forgave him after his visit to Longbourn, when I learned of what he had done for Lydia. It is not that which now sometimes makes me angry – although anger, perhaps, is not quite the right word."

"Then what is it?" asked Jane.

Elizabeth contemplated how best to explain what she felt, for she was not entirely certain in her own mind. "Last night, before the meal, Mr. Darcy requested the first two dances at the ball. Unfortunately for him, Lord Netherby arrived ahead of him, and had already secured them – no doubt it was all part of the plan to make Mr. Darcy jealous. Mr. Darcy, however, was determined, and after the ladies had withdrawn from the dining room, he persuaded Lord Netherby to relinquish the engagement. When the gentlemen joined us in the drawing room, Lord Netherby revealed what had transpired, and that he had acceded to Mr. Darcy's request. Soon afterwards, Mr. Darcy approached me and reapplied for the first two dances."

"Then he must still love you, Lizzy," said Jane eagerly.

"Of that I am not at all certain. He made it clear, both to myself and to Lord Netherby, that his purpose in wishing to dance the first set with me is to publicly acknowledge that he was mistaken in his reasons for excluding me from his society. He intends it as an unequivocal statement of his belief in my respectability. He even revealed that this was, in fact, his true reason for deciding to hold the ball – Georgiana's birthday is merely a pretext."

"It will most certainly have the desired effect, Lizzy. The news will very soon spread throughout the district, and your reputation will be entirely restored. Does not the willingness of so proud a man to humble himself by publicly acknowledging his error, indicate his love for you?"

"No," said Elizabeth, shaking her head. "Consider the trouble and expense he undertook on account of Lydia, whom he most certainly has never loved."

"Lizzy, have you never considered the possibility that, contrary to his stated reasons for what he has twice done on our sister's behalf, that he very likely did it for you. In fact, if I recall correctly, from your account of our Aunt Gardiner's letter, she was of just that opinion."

"Our aunt may have been mistaken; but even if she was not, that was a full year and a half ago, and prior to Mr. Darcy coming to hold the most abominable opinion concerning me – for over a year. I believe Mr. Darcy was being entirely honest in the reasons he gave for helping our sister on both occasions: it is his obsessive sense of duty."

"Do you really believe that, Lizzy?"

"Indeed I do. His efforts at securing the first two dances and his many attempts at conversation during the meal all speak of his sense of duty. He is ashamed of the way he mistreated me, and of injuring my reputation. He feels guilty for his actions and is eager to make amends. I do not call that love, Jane. In fact, it has nothing to do with his feelings for me in the least bit – it is rather about himself, and the standard of behaviour he believes is demanded of a gentleman of his elevated rank. I fear that what induces his actions is nothing but pride, and his precious sense of duty."

Jane reflected for some time upon her sister's words but she could not agree. "Really, Lizzy, you do not know for certain; this is all surmise. Have you never been wrong?" she asked gently.

Elizabeth gave a wry smile. Jane was referring, she knew, to how her opinions of both Wickham and Darcy had both been entirely mistaken. Luckily, her sister was unaware of the ridiculous delusion she had briefly entertained at Longbourn – that Darcy, having killed Wickham, was determined to marry Lydia in recompense. Though it now seemed absurd, was it in fact so utterly unthinkable? Mr. Darcy had been willing to marry Caroline Bingley, without the hint of affection on either side, so why would he not have married Lydia? If he had, in fact, killed her husband, might he not have been persuaded that it was his duty?

"I concede, Jane, that I have sometimes judged the character of others too hastily, and without sufficient information. However, I have now known Mr. Darcy in excess of two years, and I am confident that I understand his character very well."

"And you believe that he does not care for you in the least? That having done his duty at the ball to set the public record straight, he will treat you as a common and indifferent acquaintance?"

"Perhaps," mused Elizabeth. "What I fear more than him treating me with indifference is that he will, again, ask me to marry him."

"What?" demanded Jane in confusion. "I do not understand you at all, Lizzy. You say he is indifferent, and in the same breath that you fear he will pay you his addresses. How can that be?"

"Consider, Jane: Mr. Darcy has determined that it is time he was married; he wishes to produce an heir – it is his duty, after all! He was even prepared to settle on Caroline Bingley, so evidently love is in no way a consideration. By dancing the first set with me at the ball, he may rehabilitate my reputation, but he will hardly consider it full restitution for all that I have suffered. Mr. Darcy will continue to feel guilty, and consider himself honour bound to make amends for the pain he has caused me. Furthermore, Georgiana has, I imagine, alluded to how happy it would make her to have me as her sister."

"So you truly believe that he may pay you his addresses?"

"I consider it… quite likely. Lord Netherby's pretence may have added urgency, and spurred him to action; but it is something, I suspect, that he has contemplated ever since he learned the truth of his aunt's deception, and broke off his engagement with Caroline Bingley. When I consider his behaviour yesterday, his unexpected eagerness to engage me in conversation, his motive was not, I believe, solely his scheme regarding the first two dances at the ball – that is his first objective only – he means to court me."

"And yet you are convinced he does not love you?"

"Love has nothing to do with it, Jane. Mr. Darcy is a creature of reason, and he has three very good reasons for wishing to marry me: He feels obliged to produce an heir; his guilt regarding the evil he has done me would be assuaged and his duty discharged; and it would gratify the fond wishes of a beloved sister."

_**Please leave a comment...**_


	17. A Walk in the Snow

_**Chapter 17 ~ A Walk in the Snow**_

By the following morning, the snow had stopped falling. The sky was blue and the ground was covered in several inches of pristine snow, almost blindingly white in the sunshine. Bingley advised Jane and Elizabeth against attempting the drive to Pemberley to wait upon the ladies; although he reassured them that unless there was further heavy snow, which seemed unlikely in November, the journey to Pemberley should be possible by the time of the ball, in three days time.

As they sat by the blazing fire in the morning room, drinking tea, Jane began to speculate upon who would partner whom for the first set. "Do you think that having withdrawn his invitation to you, Lord Netherby will ask Georgiana?"

"Yes, almost certainly, it being the fond wish of his mother, and also doubtless that of his host, Mr. Darcy – and quite probably, Georgiana, herself," reflected Elizabeth.

"And perhaps, himself, also?" suggested Jane. "While Victoria's deception required that he be excessively attentive to you, I noticed Lord Netherby stealing glances at Georgiana on several occasions at both dinners."

"Yes… you may be correct. Last night in the drawing room, after I had revealed that I was aware of his sister's game, he paid a good deal of attention to Georgiana. Perhaps he does favour her, after all – for he is not the young man who would pretend to favour a lady, simply to please others – unless, of course, he is acting a part!"

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, we know, will dance with Victoria Netherby, and you with Mr. Darcy," continued Jane.

"I dance with Mr. Darcy? Who told you that, Jane?"

"Why, you did, only yesterday. You said that Lord Netherby had given way to Mr. Darcy, who had again asked you to dance the first two with him."

"Yes, it is true that he asked me – but I did not accept his offer; although neither did I decline it."

Jane gasped. "Good gracious, Lizzy, how could you not accept him when his purpose is to redeem your reputation and restore your good name in society?"

"I told him that while I was most appreciative of his worthy intentions in that regard, they were, nevertheless, insufficient inducement for me to agree to dance with him; and that if he wished to be accepted, he must convince me of his sincere desire to dance with me for the pleasure of my company alone – and not merely out of a sense of duty or guilt."

"Lizzy, sometimes you surprise me with your frankness. How did Mr. Darcy respond?"

"I did not give him the opportunity, for I was vexed with him. I immediately walked across the room and sat beside you, and I was careful to deny him any further opportunity to pursue the matter. I was tired of hearing of his noble intentions!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"For you were wishing rather to hear of his regard?" suggested Jane.

Elizabeth said nothing, and rose to admire the silent beauty of the white world beyond the window. "What beauty, what pristine, uncomplicated simplicity is the world of Nature. Oh, that our lives could be equally uncomplicated."

Jane smiled, and joined her sister at the French windows that afforded a panoramic view down to the river where the willow trees stood silently, coated in snow.

"Let us put on our pelisses and boots, and walk outside; it looks so inviting," said Elizabeth.

"You may go out if you wish," replied Jane, "but I shall remain by the fire; it looks far too cold."

"It is only that the snow makes it appear so; but it will be no colder than any other clear winter's morning."

"Look, Lizzy, there is someone approaching on horseback. I wonder who can be out on such a day."

"Really, Jane, it cannot be all that cold; and as you can observe, the horseman has no great difficulty in traversing the driveway. But who can it be? A messenger from Buxton, for Charles, perhaps?"

"Or Colonel Fitzwilliam?" suggested Jane. "He is fond of riding, as you well know. Nevertheless, it must be a long, cold, difficult journey to ride all the way from Pemberley in this snow. He is a most adventurous man."

"It is not the colonel," replied Elizabeth, "for that is not his horse. My goodness! Can it be…?"

The horseman had, by this time, arrived at the house and the stable hand took his mount to the stables to attend to it.

"Mr. Darcy," said Jane, seating herself and taking up her sewing. "If he has ridden all this way to receive an answer to his request for the two first dances, you can hardly refuse him now, Lizzy."

"Indeed I can," said Elizabeth, seating herself beside her sister and taking up her book. "It depends entirely upon how he asks," she said decidedly. "And please, Jane, do not make an excuse and leave me alone with him."

"Lizzy, you are cruel. You know that he must wish to speak with you privately."

"Perhaps. But I may not wish to speak with him. If I do, I shall give you a glance."

The servant entered and showed Mr. Darcy into the room. The ladies rose again and exchanged greetings.

"You must be frozen, Mr. Darcy. Pray sit here, by the fire. Dixon, please bring more tea," said Jane, attempting to set her guest at his ease; for his discomfort and embarrassment were manifest.

Fortunately, Bingley had seen his friend arrive from his upstairs library, and he now joined them. "Good lord, Darcy, whatever can have induced you to ride such a distance through all this snow? Are you determined to kill yourself – or your horse, perhaps?" he asked, pulling up a chair beside their visitor.

Darcy relaxed somewhat. "Not at all, Bingley; the ride was hardly more difficult than usual." Then, after taking out his watch and consulting it, he added, "It took around thirty minutes longer than it normally would – that is all. There were snow drifts on the other side of Buxton, which forced me to slow to a walk for some time, but other than that, I rode mostly at a canter. I believe that the snow actually assisted the horse by cushioning his step."

The servant brought tea and served them all. There was further conversation between the gentlemen concerning the roads and the weather, and the possibility that it might prevent some of Darcy's guests from attending the ball.

"Old Rowlands, the coachman, predicts that the weather will remain settled for some days to come; and he is seldom wrong," said Darcy. "He is confident that we are in for at least several sunny days, and cold frosty nights. Unless he is mistaken, in three days time, when you drive to Pemberley, the snow should have melted from the roads, giving you a nice clear run."

Though Darcy and Bingley continued speaking in a similar vein, it was evident to Elizabeth, from the furtive glances that Mr. Darcy directed towards her from time to time, that he was eager to speak with her privately. When he had finished his tea, Elizabeth confessed that she was impatient to be outside, walking in the pristine splendour of the snowy landscape. Darcy immediately rose to join her, and when Bingley proposed to be of the party, his wife informed him that he was needed within for some unspecified purpose. The private look she gave him convinced him to inquire no further.

"Miss Bennet," said Mr. Darcy, as they walked, side by side, across the snow-covered lawn towards the river, "I beg your indulgence to allow me to speak on a matter which has been weighing most heavily upon my mind for many months now."

Without looking up at her companion, Elizabeth nodded her ascent, as she walked through the snow, her gaze fixed upon the ground before her, hands clasped together inside her fur muff.

"I wish to tell you how heartily ashamed I am of being taken in by Lady Catherine's heinous deception. Nothing can excuse me for having allowed myself to think ill of you and to lose faith in your virtue and honour. Please understand how unthinkable it was to me that my aunt, whom I have, since my earliest years, believed to be a paragon of righteousness and integrity, could perjure herself, let alone construct so unimaginable an edifice of unprincipled deceit. You may ask my sister, or my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I am certain they will concur – that it was as impossible for any of us to believe that our aunt – who was one of life's verities – could behave in so immoral and dishonourable a way, as it was to believe that the sun would rise in the west."

Elizabeth said nothing, and continued walking with eyes fixed firmly on the snow-covered ground.

"Please do not believe that I offer this by way of an excuse, for there is none, I know, that can be in any way acceptable. Nor do I consider that I have any right to expect you to forgive me – either for allowing myself to be deceived concerning your character, or for my consequent abominable behaviour towards you."

"I forgave you some time ago, Mr. Darcy," said Elizabeth, without looking up.

"What? Really?" he asked, astonished. "When?"

"When you visited Longbourn, and I learned of what you had done to protect my name from Mr. Wickham's evil lies, and moreover, of what you intended to do for my sister. I found myself quite unable to continue feeling aggrieved in the face of such gallantry, and kind-hearted generosity."

"Oh?" said Darcy, pausing in surprise. Elizabeth, however, continued walking, looking steadfastly ahead of her, obliging Mr. Darcy to quicken his pace to catch up. "I had not realised, for if you will pardon me for saying so, it seemed to me that since your return from Hertfordshire that you have continued to be displeased with me."

"I said that I had forgiven you, Mr. Darcy – I did not say that your society pleased me. Do you imagine that I am able to feel cheerful and at ease in the company of a person who could be persuaded to believe such vile slander about me? Particularly a gentleman whom I ranked as more than merely a passing acquaintance, but one whom I once thought knew me well, and held me in high regard."

"Then you still blame me," said Darcy, disconsolately. "Miss Bennet, can you not comprehend the utter impossibility of my having doubted the word of my aunt? Please believe me that nothing less compelling could have caused me to doubt you. I earnestly entreat you to understand that I was blinded by the certitude of faith in the honour of a revered family member which rendered me wholly incapable of imagining, for even a moment, that I was being cold-bloodedly duped. I beg you, do not believe it to be a reflection upon my… my great esteem… for you."

Elizabeth momentarily looked up at Mr. Darcy, who was staring down at her imploringly. "I see," was all she said before lowering her gaze once more. They had now reached the river and struck out along the snow-covered path which ran along the near bank.

"I fear, Miss Bennet, that you remain unconvinced. I sincerely hope that you do not believe that I am being dishonest or attempting to deceive you; I would never lie to you, I swear it!"

"I do not suspect you of being dishonest with me, Mr. Darcy; only of being dishonest with – or at least deluding – yourself."

"I am sorry, I do not comprehend your meaning," said Darcy, bewildered. "In what way do you believe I am deluding myself?"

"In believing that you hold me in high esteem. For I must tell you that I saw not the least trace of esteem in that cold, haughty, disdainful expression upon your face when our eyes met across the aisle at my sister's wedding. That scornful mask is etched indelibly in my memory, and for a full twelvemonth, there was nothing with which to dislodge it, for you avoided my society as though I were a leper. You fled before me and excluded me from your society. On those few occasions when you could not avoid me, you refused to look at me. You behaved as if I did not exist. Where, Mr. Darcy, was your great esteem in all of that time?"

Darcy stopped walking, and Elizabeth, too, stopped, and looked up at him with an expression of pain and anguish that pierced him to the core. For some time, he was struck dumb, as he attempted to quiet his galloping heart and gain some control of his wildly racing mind. There was nothing for it, but to reveal the true depth of the feelings which for so long he had been entirely powerless to subdue.

They had come to one of the ancient stone bridges that crossed the river, and Elizabeth stepped onto it with the intention of crossing to the other side and thence walking back in the direction of the house.

Darcy followed her silently, thinking all the while as they crossed the bridge of what he must say. He did not know what were her true feelings for him, and he feared the worst; yet he must bare his soul and expose the full fervour of his passion – nothing less would answer.

As they set out along the path on the far bank or the river, he spoke. "Miss Bennet, I have been in love with you for the past two years, since I was first in Hertfordshire. Though you rejected me in Kent, and quite rightly so, for my behaviour at the time was unpardonable, I did not cease to love you – as became abundantly manifest when we met unexpectedly in Derbyshire, some months later. I rode to Lambton on your final morning there, with the express intention of again paying you my addresses; but most regrettably, you had just received the awful news concerning your youngest sister, before which everything else gave way. In September, when I visited Longbourn with Bingley, and we dined with you, it was once more my intention to pay you my addresses; but I hesitated, for I was uncertain of what were your feelings for me; you were so grave and silent. Though I was obliged to go to London on business, I had fully determined to return to Hertfordshire and again attempt to comprehend whether I might ever hope to make you love me.

"However, as you know, I did not return into Hertfordshire; for, while in London, I received the letters from Mr. Wickham, Mr. Collins, and my aunt – which finally persuaded me of the truth of Wickham's allegations – and threw my life into utter turmoil," he said, sighing mournfully.

"Miss Bennet, please do not doubt me when I tell you that though I believed you to have lost your character, you never lost my love; for it simply refused to die. I know that I treated you abominably, but it was not because I no longer cared for you – but on the contrary, because my love remained true. Believing what I did about you, and knowing it to be impossible that we might ever marry, it was an absolute torment for me to set eyes upon you; I could not bear to be in the same room as you.

"There is no excuse, I know, for my cowardly and irrational behaviour in attempting to avoid your society – but the strength of my emotions overcame all reason. I absented myself from Hertfordshire last year when the obligations of friendship demanded my supporting Bingley at the time of his marriage. Though I determined to stay some days at Netherfield Park following the wedding ceremony, when our eyes met in the church, the feelings that were unleashed overcame all reason, all sense of propriety and duty. I fled Hertfordshire like a cowardly cur – the shame I felt was unbearable," he said, shaking his head.

Though he looked at her imploringly, Elizabeth continued walking; her gaze focussed on the water flowing beneath the white skeletal branches of the willows overhanging the river, and the ripples made by those long enough to touch the water.

"And again I fled from you, as you must recall, when you came to London. I am thoroughly ashamed of the way I conducted myself with Bingley, when he was considering the purchase of Willowbank, which I had learned was to be your home, also. The low, deceitful, and despicable means I used in endeavouring to dissuade him from purchasing the property were unconscionable. My behaviour was so utterly shameful, and so totally out of character, that, for a time, I feared that I might be losing the balance of my mind.

"When later you settled at Willowbank, I found myself utterly incapable of being in your society. Had my feelings been less, then for the sake of my friendship with Bingley, and the conduct that was demanded of me as a gentleman, I would not have prevented you from visiting Pemberley, and I would have dined at Willowbank. But my feelings would not be tamed. It feels to me, Miss Bennet, as though I have spent a twelvemonth living in hell."

Elizabeth stopped walking, and looked up tenderly at his forlorn face. There were tears in her eyes. "You poor man," she said. "You have suffered as much as I."

"We have both of us suffered, for far too long, Miss Bennet. Is it possible, do you think, that a time might come when you would be able to feel more for me than mere pity? Can you find it in your heart to at least permit me the opportunity of trying to please you? Perhaps in time you might find it possible to return, in some small measure, this all-consuming passion that I feel for you?"

Elizabeth withdrew her gaze from those ardent imploring eyes framed by his handsome, tragic face, and recommenced walking along the snow-covered path. Seemingly, ignoring his heartfelt plea, she said, "I had not the least idea, Mr. Darcy, of what you felt for me, or of the torment you have suffered. And yet, I do not believe that I have suffered in any way less than you. This might strike you as callous; it might seem to you that I make light of the terrible pain and anguish which you have revealed, which is clearly of a different order of magnitude to the ostracism that I have endured."

Darcy said nothing as he walked beside Elizabeth.

"My exclusion from society has been in no way the worst of what I have suffered, Mr. Darcy. For I have loved you, if not quite so long, most assuredly, as fervently as you have loved me. And to have been spurned and repudiated by the one I loved has been the hardest of all things to bear."

Darcy stopped and turned towards Elizabeth, "You… you have loved me all this time?" stammered Darcy, incredulously.

"Yes," said Elizabeth, smiling up at him. "I cannot say with any degree of certainty exactly when it began. Perhaps in Kent, when I read your letter. It had quite an effect upon me; it served to overturn all of my former prejudices against you. I felt quite ashamed of the unjust words with which I had abused you at the Hunsford Parsonage, and began to acknowledge your many fine qualities, which had been previously obscured by all my mistaken notions. My good opinion of you was greatly advanced by the favourable testimony regarding your character that I heard from your housekeeper, who conducted our tour Pemberley, just prior to the most unexpected meeting with you in the grounds."

"It seems that I owe Mrs. Reynolds an enormous debt of gratitude," said Darcy, beaming.

"Indeed you do," replied Elizabeth. "But it was your own behaviour which made the strongest impression upon me, and truly earned my esteem. After the acrimony of my rebuke at Hunsford, I had no right to expect to be even noticed by you; yet you treated me with such extraordinary politeness and amiability; and the meaning of your desire to introduce me to your sister was unmistakeable. Had not the news of Lydia prevented you from paying me your addresses at Lambton, you would have been accepted. I will own that after the warmth of your conduct to me in both Pemberley and Lambton, it would not have been unexpected, and I had determined what my answer should be."

"Oh," whispered Darcy, staring open-mouthed at Elizabeth.

"And had you paid me your addresses in Longbourn, in September, I likewise would have accepted you."

"And if… and if I were to pay them to you now, Miss Bennet?" he whispered, regarding her longingly.

Elizabeth removed one hand from her fur muff and pushed it up her forearm to free her hands, with which she reached out to grasp his. "The answer, Mr. Darcy, would be… _yes_."

"You will marry me?" asked Darcy, almost disbelievingly. An expression of heartfelt delight suffused his face, which in a few short minutes had been transmogrified from a visage of abject misery, to astonishment and wonder, and then finally to ineffable joy and ecstasy.

"I have been waiting a long time to get the answer to that question right," said Elizabeth, playfully alluding to her ruthless rejection of his suit in Kent.

"Elizabeth, my dearest, darling Elizabeth, today you have made me the happiest of men," he said, his heart overflowing with joy. "May I announce our betrothal at the ball at Pemberley?"

"Certainly – although your guests may begin to believe you incapable of giving a ball without announcing your engagement," said Elizabeth, ironically.

Darcy shook his head. "You must wonder, dear Elizabeth, how I could ever have contemplated marriage to Caroline Bingley."

"You were in love with her, I suppose?" teased Elizabeth.

Darcy rolled his eyes. "In love with Miss Bingley? Never! After being comprehensively deceived by my aunt, though my love refused to die, I concluded that that I could never marry you, and thus determined that I must marry someone – anyone. I needed to think of an heir for Pemberley. But as a matter of the utmost urgently, I was desperate to regain control of my tempestuous emotions. I prayed that in marrying, my feelings for you might begin to diminish, for it must irrevocably end all of my hopes."

"And Caroline Bingley has made no secret of her eagerness to be your wife!"

"What a punishment it would have been to spend my life with that woman!" said Darcy, shaking his head. "And to think how close to it I came!"

Elizabeth took Darcy's arm, and they commenced walking again, along the river. "I believe we have finally found something for which we can thank your devious aunt."

"Yes," said Darcy, laughing. "She purposely made me an executor of her will so that I would become aware of the payments to Miss Bingley and uncover her part in the deception. Lady Catherine knew that Miss Bingley wished to marry me, and she was determined to prevent it – and so she did."

"But unfortunately for your aunt, her ultimate goal of your marrying her daughter, Anne, was never realised." Elizabeth proceeded to recount her acrimonious conversation with Lady Catherine at Longbourn, the previous October.

"I knew nothing of the matter until Colonel Fitzwilliam related what you had said of the interview on the day he came with the letters to Willowbank, when you so brilliantly pieced together the whole fabric of my aunt's extraordinary scheme. So you refused her demands that you promise not to marry me?" he asked, smilingly.

"Indeed I did! The effrontery of the woman! I should have refused her even had I not wished to marry you! Her final words were 'I shall now know how to act… depend upon it, I will carry my point!' And then she rode off to London and began weaving her wicked web of lies."

They walked on joyfully arm in arm. "I hope I have not been too hard on Lord Netherby," said Darcy. "I have been rather short and snappish with him, ever since the dinner at Pemberley last week. I became so annoyed at the way he was always engaging you in conversation and monopolising your attention. I became quite jealous, I fear."

"Of course you did, my dear, exactly as you were supposed to," said Elizabeth, with a pert smile.

"As I was supposed to?" asked Darcy, flummoxed.

"Yes, it was all part of a little deception devised by Miss Netherby. Surely you noticed all the attention that she lavished upon you – why Caroline Bingley could not have outdone her."

"I did notice – I could hardly have failed to. But, please believe me, dear Elizabeth," said Darcy earnestly, "I gave her not the slightest encouragement. From the moment I first discovered my aunt's deception, I have thought about, wished for, and desired to marry, no one but you."

"I do believe you. You see, Miss Netherby and her brother have been acting a part."

"Acting? Why ever would they do that?" asked Darcy, perplexed. They had now arrived at another of the stone bridges, which they crossed in order to complete the circuit which would bring them back to the house.

"Miss Netherby's attentions to you were intended to arouse the interest of your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, by making him jealous. I believe she was quite successful on that score, for he was most eager to engage her for the first two dances at the ball."

"Oh, I see. So she was not really interested in me at all, then?"

"No. Miss Netherby is a most astute observer. She has been aware for some months of my feelings for you, and perhaps even, of what yours have been for me. She instructed her brother to lavish his attentions upon me in order to make you jealous, in order to prompt you to act."

"Well, he certainly did an excellent job!" said Darcy, laughing. "Although it was hardly necessary. I fear I may have been a little overbearing with him when I demanded that he withdraw his invitation to you for the first two dances at the ball. Which reminds me; I do not believe that I have received an answer from you yet, concerning that particular request?"

"I would not dream of dancing them with any other gentleman," said Elizabeth, squeezing his arm fondly.

Darcy smiled with satisfaction. "I suppose it would be considered bad form if I were to dance every dance with you?"

"Indeed it would. You must, of course, dance with Georgiana, in whose honour the ball is held; and as host, you will naturally be expected to dance with some of your guests. When we are married, you may be excused if you monopolise me at a ball."

"Then tell me, dear Elizabeth, that we may marry soon," he implored her. "We have been kept apart far too long; pray let us not prolong the torment with a long engagement," he begged fervently.

"I think we have little choice in the matter, but to marry speedily," said Elizabeth with a smile. "For so long as you remain unmarried, Miss Bingley will continue to receive her most ill-deserved stipend from Lady Catherine's will. When is the next payment due?"

Darcy smiled happily. "In early January, I believe; so we must marry next month – and before Christmas, of course. In three or four weeks, perhaps? Will it be possible to make all the arrangements in so short a time, do you think?" he asked anxiously.

"I can see no great difficulty," Elizabeth reassured him. Then suddenly she stopped walking. "Oh, darling, I have just realised that we cannot announce our betrothal at the ball, for you have not yet asked my father. I am entirely confident that he will not deny you, for he holds you in the highest esteem; I can vouch for it. But still, you must observe the formality."

"Yes indeed," agreed Darcy, looking up at the sun to guess the hour, which was not yet midday. "I have it; I shall ride immediately to Buxton and send an express to Longbourn. Your father should have it by tomorrow at the very latest. If he replies immediately, as I shall request, then there is every possibility of my receiving his reply by the night of the ball."

"Yes, do, darling. It will be such a wonderful birthday present for Georgiana."

"Indeed it will," said Darcy. "I believe it is her fondest wish."

They were standing close to the house. Before setting out for the stables, Darcy turned towards Elizabeth, taking her hands in his and smiling at her lovingly. "I can hardly believe this day, that I have so often dreamt of, which for so long has eluded me, and seemed utterly beyond my reach, has finally come."

Elizabeth squeezed his hands. "You speak the exact words, my love, that arise in my own heart."

Elizabeth lost track of how long they stood staring lovingly into each other's eyes. Just as she feared he must turn to go, Elizabeth stepped closer, and standing on her toes, turned her face upwards towards his. He bent down his head, and for a brief, exquisite moment, their lips met.

_~ Epilogue to come ~_

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	18. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

_(Six Weddings and a Few Funerals)_

Georgiana Darcy was so overjoyed at the news of her brother's betrothal to Elizabeth Bennet that she insisted upon them opening her birthday ball. Most of the company had also attended the previous ball at Pemberley – given in honour of Mr. Darcy's engagement to Caroline Bingley – and thus were astonished to see their host opening the ball with an entirely different lady. Not only was she _not_ his betrothed, but she was a person whom, according to local gossip, might be entirely undeserving of the appellation _lady_, and the foundation of that gossip was, in fact, due to her exclusion from the society of none other than Mr. Darcy.

Only Darcy's intimates were aware of the abrupt end of his engagement to Miss Bingley; or of the restoration of Miss Bennet's reputation. Imagine the surprise of the remainder of the company when their host, upon being handed an express by his butler during the supper, ordered champagne to be served, and proceeded to announce his betrothal to Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

No one who had been present at the earlier ball could fail to notice the marked difference in his demeanour from that prior occasion, when his appearance was more in keeping with a man bound for the gallows, than of one looking forward to a life of connubial felicity. On the few occasions he had managed a smile, it was in so stiff and wooden a manner as to be entirely unconvincing. Tonight, however, Darcy had no need of pretence, for his heart was brimming with a love and a joy that could not be suppressed, and which was very visibly returned by his beautiful intended bride.

* * *

In deference to Mr. Darcy's wishes, the few who were cognisant of the details of Lady Catherine's vile scheme, and the consequent abrupt termination of his engagement to Miss Bingley, kept their silence. However, after the announcement of his betrothal to Miss Bennet, speculation concerning the breaking off of his previous engagement to Miss Bingley was rife – not only in Derbyshire, but in the London papers, also.

Caroline Bingley, who had even greater reason than Mr. Darcy, to prevent details of the deception becoming common knowledge, developed an urgent desire to tour to the Continent. Though the cause of the broken engagement never became known, it nevertheless resulted in public shame for the lady.

Either she had withdrawn from the engagement – disgraceful behaviour indeed – or else she had given Mr. Darcy just cause to break it off – her failure to seek rightful legal redress through the courts was tantamount to an admission of guilt. Gossip had it that she was guilty of much the same kind of offence as that which she had so assiduously assisted Lady Catherine de Bourgh in attempting to attribute to Elizabeth Bennet.

In common with her brother, Charles Bingley, Mrs. Hurst likewise refused to admit their sister, Caroline, into her society, for she feared the social disapprobation it must inevitably attract. Miss Bingley was thus obliged to remove herself from society, and lived out her days sequestered in a lonely cottage in some distant place.

* * *

Elizabeth's wedding was followed early in the New Year by that of her sister, Kitty, to Jonathon Chester. An unexpected addition to those gathered on that occasion, at the church in Longbourn, was a gentleman by the name of Harold Thorpe, who claimed a distant kinship to Mr. Bennet. When the wedding breakfast was over and the happy couple bade farewell, Mr. Thorpe was granted an interview with Mr. Bennet, wherein he revealed his purpose in coming to Longbourn.

Due to a good deal of bad luck, Mr. Thorpe's father had lost his modest estate to creditors. He died very soon afterwards, leaving very little to his only son, Harold, who endeavoured to make his fortune in New South Wales, where he was successful as a farmer. After a dozen or so years there, he decided to sell up and return to England, with the intention of establishing himself as a gentleman farmer.

Whilst waiting in Sydney for his ship to sail, he had met a gentleman by the name of George Wickham, who was down on his luck and attempting to reverse it at the card table. Having drunk immoderately, he regaled those present with stories of his many successes with the ladies; in the course of which he spoke of an elopement, and subsequent profitable marriage, to a Miss Bennet of Longbourn. Upon questioning him, Mr. Thorpe determined that the father of the young lady from Longbourn was a distant cousin of his deceased father. Two days later, he was unsurprised to learn that Mr. Wickham had been shot by an irate army officer, whose wife he had seduced.

Mr. Thorpe obtained an official copy of Mr. Wickham's death certificate before departing the colony, and had come to Longbourn with the intention of giving it to Mr. Bennet. He expressed his sincere regret at being the bearer of bad tidings, and was greatly surprised to discover that his news was received with the utmost complaisance – not least of all by Mr. Wickham's widow.

Mr. Bennet invited the gentleman to remain as his guest at Longbourn while he sought a suitable farm in the district. Mr. Thorpe, eager to make up for lost time, was also in want of a wife, and fortunately he did not have far to look – Lydia Wickham, he decided, would suit him very well. Lydia was of a like mind, and before the possibility of forwarding a match between them had even occurred to her mother, an understanding had developed.

* * *

Lady Catherine de Bourgh's passing was deeply regretted by at least one person – her humble rector, Mr. Collins. Having worked most diligently to ingratiate himself and find favour with the great lady, he was now obliged to start all over again with his new patroness, Miss Anne de Bourgh. The unfortunate Mr. Collins found his new task most difficult indeed, for unlike Lady Catherine, who had always been most explicit concerning what did and did not please her, and exceedingly precise in her wishes and demands, the daughter hardly spoke a word. Her anxious rector fretted, knowing not what he must do to please her.

Then, one day, by a stroke of good fortune, a swarm of bees took up residence in an ancient elm tree, situated in a part of the garden where Miss de Bourgh was fond of sitting. The bees terrified her, and none of the gardeners were eager to attempt the removal of the nest, on account of it being at so great a distance from the ground.

Mr. Collins, a keen apiarist, was overjoyed at this unexpected boon. Here was an opportunity to impress, and be of service to his patroness – and to earn her gratitude. Having climbed to the top of the estate's tallest ladder, Mr. Collins expertly climbed up along the large branch towards the bees. Whether he would have succeeded in dislodging the nest we shall never know, for the bees attacked the unfortunate rector en masse, and dislodged _him_ from the branch, from whence he plummeted to his death.

* * *

Mr. Collins' untimely demise caused a good deal of speculation at Longbourn, to which he was heir; for he had passed away without fathering a child. It was eventually determined that the Mr. Bennet's nearest living male relative was none other than Lydia's betrothed: Harold Thorpe.

Mr Bennet's chief tenant farmer, old Jones, who had become increasingly infirmed, wished to retire, and thus Mr. Thorpe took over the farming of his lands. After wedding Lydia, he took up residence in her parents' house, and Mr. Bennet was exceedingly happy to hand over the entire management of his estate to his son-in-law, and to content himself with reading and frequent visits to his favourite daughter at Pemberley.

If he had hoped that the marriage of all five daughters, and the comfort of knowing that she might live out her days at Longbourn, would finally put an end to his wife's interminable fretting over matrimonial matters, he was sadly disappointed. For Mrs. Bennet had discovered that there was a dearth of male children in the district of a suitable age and social status for her dear little Eleanor – and wherever would Lydia find a husband for her daughter?

* * *

Charlotte Collins found herself entirely consolable over the untimely death of her husband, and bore his memory not the slightest ill-will on account of his early departure from this world – leaving her a widow alone. Mrs. Collins gratefully accepted the invitation of her old friend, Elizabeth Darcy, to stay at Pemberley for as long as she pleased. When a suitable period of mourning had passed, Elizabeth introduced her friend to a number or eligible local gentlemen, and was unsurprised when the rector at Kympton found favour. Although he was an exceedingly amiable and intelligent gentleman – and far superior to the late Mr. Collins in every way – Elizabeth suspected that Charlotte had decided that being mistress of a parsonage suited her; and that the lovely Parsonage House at Kympton was everything she could possibly wish for – not to mention being close to Pemberley.

* * *

For a time, it seemed that the much anticipated marriage of Colonel Fitzwilliam and Victoria Netherby might never eventuate. Though he loved the lady, and was well aware that she wished to marry him, and that they would be most welcome to reside at Fendalton Park, the colonel had misgivings on account of her great wealth, which greatly exceeded his own. It troubled him that her fortune was part of her attraction – a circumstance of which she must, herself, be well aware. Thus did the colonel hesitate in proposing marriage – until the occurrence of a most surprising turn of events.

Anne de Bourgh, who had her whole life long been weak and sickly, passed away within two years of her mother. Her will had been entirely devised by Lady Catherine. Colonel Fitzwilliam's older brother had an earl's inheritance and would have no use for Rosings Park; so Lady Catherine determined that it should go to one of her other two nephews. Darcy was her favourite; but since the will would only take effect if her daughter were unmarried, the fact of its execution meant that Darcy had not married Anne – which, he was well aware, was her fondest wish. That being the case, he did not deserve to inherit her estate, and thus it was left in its entirety to Colonel Fitzwilliam – who very speedily married Victoria Netherby and took up residence at Rosings Park.

* * *

Georgiana was so delighted to have Elizabeth living at Pemberley, that she was not at all eager to marry, despite the blossoming of her affection for Lord Netherby, who was a most frequent visitor. Under Elizabeth's guidance, Georgiana developed greater confidence, and learned to give freer rein to the playful side of her character, which Lord Netherby found enchanting.

The lady's reticence to consider marriage made the gentleman ever more desperate and in love with her. He remained patient and true to Georgiana for several years, until finally, she agreed to marry him – upon the promise that they might visit Pemberley or invite Mr. and Mrs. Darcy to visit Fendalton Park as much as her heart desired.

_~ The End ~_

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